Without You, I'm Gone
by Lillebule
Summary: Book based Esmeralda fic. I'm terrible at writing summaries, please see individual chapters for more information.
1. Without You

Without You I'm Gone.

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Disclaimer: I do no own any form of Hugo's Notre-Dame De Paris, or any of it's various adaptations.

I was listening to the song, "Without You" from Rent, and it got me thinking about the part of the book, where Esmeralda is in jail, and this is what transpired. Please tell me what you think…but make sure it's constructive criticism. This is my very first NDDP fanfic, and I hope to do more soon. As this is my first fic, I will be changing it a bit and updating it with more detail, eventually.

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She was there, beneath the earth. She sat there, knowing that above her were a thousand footsteps and whispers of odd gossip. There were trees growing, there were flowers in bloom, there were poets writing. And there would always be these things. But these things ceased to exist for _HER_. She whispered his name over and over again, as she held her knees to her chest in an attempt to keep warm.

The sun was shining. It had to have been for her to be alive. She could feel her heart beating, she could feel the cold water drip onto her hands, she could wipe away the tears from her cheeks. Her life was still being lived. She shook, not knowing what to think, or even if she should be thinking.

Men somewhere were discussing what they she do with her. They sat in some room somewhere, not caring that she wanted to see the sun light once more, just to know that _IT_ still existed. It no longer mattered to _THEM_ that she had nearly forgotten why she was there. They would soon forget, as well.

There was hope, somewhere. Just the fact that the word, "hope" was still fresh in her mind was enough for her to believe that hope itself still existed. And therefore, her Phoebus must still exist. She knew in her heart, that he knew she still existed as well. In her mind he was alive, and he would save her.

The thought never crossed her naïve mind that without her, his world would move on. For without him, she was gone.

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Constructive critisism/reviews are welcome.


	2. I'd Die Without You

She sobbed heavily, all that was left for her now was wondering about him. She often wondered if he thought about her, she pictured him huddled over maps of the city, trying to figure out where she could be. And for some odd reason it made her sob more. He was up there. He was living a happy, uninterrupted life. She was living…or at least she still thought she was. It had been so long since she had felt pain, she had only vaguely felt the rats and insects crawl over her while she slept, and she could reach out and run her fingertips through a small puddle of water. It had been too long since she had felt light. She was no longer knew if light even existed. As she lay down, ready to accept her fate, she saw it. It was bright and painful! She closed her eyes tightly and used her arm to shield them. She shook, not knowing whether to go toward the light, or just sit there. She quickly decided upon the latter. She soon noticed the light coming towards her and a hand reaching out.

All this time, she had thought herself dead and now death was folding its hand out to her. The hooded figure did not say a word. It did not reveal itself to her. She looked upon the hand and then looked to see if she could find any trace of a facial feature beneath the hood. She did not know what she feared more; that this truly was death, or that this was someone come to play some terrible joke on her. The figure was standing in front of her with an outstretched hand. If this was Death, she would be free. If this was some horrid joke, then at least she would be able to run to safety. She felt a few more sobs drift from her mouth. Her head suddenly felt heavy, her eyelids blinked quickly, she felt air escape her lungs, and then everything faded to black.

There had been things she wanted to ask the cloaked figure, she wanted to hear its voice, she wanted to see if it had a face. Subconsciously she could feel her body being lifted and decided upon only one outcome; heaven! Soon she would be there. Soon that hideous monk would see the body of the girl he claimed to "love" splayed on the cold dungeon floor. He would feel guilty. She felt a drowsy smile spread across her face, as she imagined Phoebus rushing in to finally save her and the handsome knight finding her tormentor. A swift combat, her captain's sword to the priest's throat!

She felt a hand softy caress her hair, as though some angel was trying to wake her and welcome her to heaven. She felt her body being picked up and turned quickly. She was moving now and she was being taken from this earth. The only part of this that saddened her was that she would not get to see her Phoebus slay that demon priest. She would give up death to see that! She would gladly walk the earth in any form after seeing that.

As she was being carried away, she felt a cool breeze on her face. She was exiting her tomb. She felt the angel's breath upon her lips and a gentle kiss. But if this was the angel of death, what need did it have to breathe? She found herself panicking, wondering who this person was, what they were doing, where they were taking her. Oh god! Oh god, what if she was being taken back to the torture chamber? She squirmed, trying to free herself from the mystery person's grasp. What if this being was not taking her to heaven? What if she was being taken to hell? She attempted to push away from whoever held her, but was too weak. And then, the thought finally occurred to her; what if it was him?

In a flash her eyes darted open, searching for a face under the hood.

"Who are you?"

She gasped frantically, on the verge of tears.

"Let me go! Where are you taking me?"

The cloaked being did not answer. The lack of answers filled Esmeralda with utter fear and she began to struggle furiously to get away. Where was the guard? She looked around her, the guard had fallen asleep.

"Please let me go."

Her voice was barely audible.

The figure set her down, but kept hold of her wrists with one hand. From inside his cloak he withdrew a small, clear vial and placed it to her lips. She thrashed her head, pulling away, not wanting the liquid to enter past her lips. Her captor appeared prepared. He placed his thumb beneath her chin and tilted her head back. Within moments the liquid was in her mouth, but she had not swallowed it. The figure foresaw this reaction and pinched her nose. She swallowed the liquid in small amounts, unsure of what it could do to her. After the figure was sure that she had swallowed most of the potion, it lifted her in its arms once again.

"What did you give me? Please tell me. I can't tell anyone, who would believe me?"

She began bargaining with the unknown being, begging it to let her go, demanding to know its name.

The being never answered and soon she felt her body go limp and everything went dark and silent.


	3. I Stayed Up Again

Hey all you readers out there in FanFiction Land! Just wanted to let my readers know that this story is beginning to get a little intense, and pretty soon I might move it to the "M" category for some mature content. At this moment I can not sat what will happen, or who will be involved in the mature content. So far, I have only thought threw the next few chapters...yes, they will be ClaudexEsme. In my mind I know what will happen, I just haven't gotten it all on the computer yet.

Thanks to all of my reviewers. As much as I love it when someone makes one of my pieces a "favorite" I would really like to see those same people review. Let me know why it's your favorite.

The titles of these chapters are either titles of songs, or lyrics from songs...I don't own any of them.

As always reviews and constructive criticism are welcome, flames not so much.

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A sobering sensation washed over her as she awoke. She could feel the warmth of light on her skin, the soft form of a cloud beneath her, but her arms were being held over her head. She tried to pull her arms away from whoever held them, but discovered that they were bound to something. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was lying in a bed, her arms bound to one of its posts. She frantically looked around; it was day. She could see the sunlight through a window. She was in a strange home, in a strange bed. There was a cloaked being which carried her out of her prison. As she placed each piece together in her mind, she heard the door open. The cloaked figure entered with a small bowl and a spoon. She remained calm at first, only wanting some answers.

The figure sat down in a chair, beside the bed and removed its hood. The girl's breath shook with light sobs and pleas to be released.

"You are not death."

She stated with complete certainty.

"No, I am not death."

The man replied as he began feeding her the contents of the bowl. It was a warm soup, but previous circumstances told her not to eat it, to swivel her head away from the spoon.

"You have to eat."

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"To answer your first question, we are in a small house, our home for the time being."

He did not answer the second question, as he did not wish to aggravate her so early on in the day.

"Who are you?"

She repeated the question, thrashing away from the spoon once more.

"I am merely an admirer, my dear Esmeralda."

His voice shook with some unknown quality, but it frightened her all the same.

For a few moments she stared at him, mouth agape, unable to process exactly what was happening.

"Yes, but you are not Phoebus. No, I recognize you! You are the man who killed my Phoebus."

She spat, as tears began to fall from her eyes, as she begged for him to release her.

"Please, just let me go."

"You can see clearly why I can not do that."

He placed the spoon to her lips.

"I do not blame you for not trusting me, but it is only a beef soup."

He gently pushed the spoon past her lips, forcing her to taste it. After he saw her swallow one spoonful, he placed the bowl to her lips, allowing her to drink the soup.

"If you like, then perhaps later I can untie your arms. It must be dreadfully uncomfortable for you to lie like that."

She did not answer him. Instead she began a new conversation.

"Why did you not just leave me to die?"

She took deep breaths in between each word to prevent from sobbing again. She did not trust this man. She did not want him to see her weakened by anything he did.

"I could not stand to let you die. I love you, Esmeralda."

His voice was pleading and gentle. To reinforce his last statement, he bent to kiss her forehead. She struggled to move away, but he had grabbed her by the jaw and pressed his lips to her forehead.

With that he left the room. In his absence, the girl did not feel as reassured as she had thought she would. She did not know his name, did not know when he would return. She shook with rage, at the fact that he had not allowed her a dying wish. She only wished to die, and he took that right from her.


	4. Author's Note

Author's note.

I will be moving this story to the "M" section soon, as it will soon become very graphic and quite intense.

For those of you who do not wish to read such content, I understand. It is a matter of opinion and I will not hold that against anyone.

I am just giving my readers a heads up on what is going on as far as content.

Please be patient, as the more intense this story gets, the more difficult it becomes to write.

As I am a BIG fan of cliff hangers, I am not going into details about what will/will not happen, nor will I speculate about character interactions.

All I will say for the time being is that I have always wanted book Esmeralda to grow a backbone and take charge of the situation.

Now, for those of you who have made this a "favorite story," I thank you, however, I would like to see you review. Tell me what it is that makes this one of your favorites. Tell me what you like, don't like…etc. I love hearing from everyone who reads, as long as what they have to say is constructive. All flames, or personal attacks will be deleted/disregarded, and possibly reported.


	5. Who Knew

Thanks to all my reviewers out there in FanFic Land! You guys ROCK!

Once again the title is also that of a song, one which I do not own. The singer, Pink owns it.

Well, Esme gets some of her questions answered in this chapter...not that she likes the answers.

If you are wondering, then, yes...the next chapter will be where she finds out her captor's name. Okay, so maybe you were wondering something different. Yes, she might actually share a bed with him, but that is all I am going to say.

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The sun was setting and her captor had not yet come back into the room. The lack of sound in the room frightened her, the lack of freedom made her uneasy. This was not a prison; this was a bed chamber with a large wooden door, a small table and basin of water, a desk, a chair and the large bed she was lying in. This room held all the comforts she could possibly ask for, yet it was more formidable than her previous prison. Questions of where she was, who her captor was, his intentions were flung about her mind, like arrows. But the biggest and most unsettling to her was that of her captain; how would he find her? Had her captor killed him?

The sound of the door did little to rouse her from this ponderous state. She turned her head, so that she wouldn't have to see the grotesque features of the priest.

He approached her, wordlessly and began to untie the ropes, which bound her to the bed. When he was finished, he turned to leave.

"What…what do you want with me?"

She asked, not wanting to be left alone in the room again. Her voice faltered to a whisper. She was uncertain what his reaction to this question might be, and was not entirely sure she wanted to find out his answer. He turned to answer her, but he was not entirely sure he could.

"I thought I had made that clear. I love you Esmeralda. I want you to love me. I want for you to show me the same love you were willing to give the captain."

He spoke in short, uneasy sentences. He did not want to use the captain's name, as he hated it and knew that she would use it soon enough.

"But I do not love you."

She shook her head in a negative fashion, hoping it would emphasize the meaning of her words.

"In time, you will."

He saw that this conversation would go on and sat down beside her, hoping his closeness might comfort her.

"I want to leave. I want to go back to the prison, I don't want to be near you!"

She lunged at him, trying to hit him, but fell to the floor in tears. He knelt down, helping her to her feet. He hoped that gentleness was the right approach in these matters.

"You are safe here. This is where you will live, I have instructed my brother to ask a female companion to gather some clothes for you. The dresses are in the drawers, underneath the basin there."

He pointed to the drawers, hoping that the prospect of clean garments would put her in a better mood.

"No. I do not want anything from you. I do not want you dresses, your bed and I certainly do not want you!"

She pushed away from him and darted toward the door. She tried, desperately to open it, but it was locked.

In tears, she slumped to her knees, pounding on the door with her little fist.

"Let me go, let me go! I do not want you!"

He went and sat beside her, tilting her head up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Only I have the key."

He showed her the chain around his neck, with the key attached.

"I am the only one with access in and out of this room, the only one who knows your whereabouts. You will stay in this room, until I am certain you will not try to escape. I will bring you meals, and escort you to the washroom however that is the only circumstance under which you will leave this room. You can either be my prisoner, or you can take advantage of the life I am willing to give you. The choice is yours."

She stared at him, not knowing what he would do, not trusting him. She felt his hand caress her hair and her shoulder and his loathsome lips on her neck. For him, this was bliss, for her it was hell.

"I shall escort you to the washroom and then you and I will return to this room."

The prospect of going anywhere with him repulsed her, let alone the thought of him sleeping in the same bed. He helped her to her feet and she suddenly realized how lucky she had once been.

She had once had the earth beneath her feet, god's own air to breather, clear water to drink, friends to speak with. No one had ever once told her that it all could be taken in mere seconds.


	6. Family Portrait

Esmeralda was clean now. A night chemise had been waiting in the washroom for her. She felt refreshed, but not ready to go back to the bed chamber with_ him_. It suddenly occurred to her that he knew her name and she did not know his. She hardly cared what his name was, but she felt as though she needed to call him something.

She quietly exited the washroom, knowing that he'd be waiting. He placed a hand around her waist, guiding her back to the bed chamber. She would wait for him, while he had the chance to dress for bed.

She heard the door lock behind her, and hoped that he would not come back. She prayed that on his way to the washroom he would be attacked, that he would slip and fall and die. She would not share a bed with him, she would sleep on the floor if she had to.

Would Phoebus still want her, if he knew she was going to be sleeping beside some old monk? She felt her knees weaken and she sank onto the bed. Her hand covered her mouth as she sobbed.

She wanted the captain to rush in, kill that hideous priest and save her. She fantasized about him; his arms around her, his lips on hers. She could almost feel him laying her down on the bed, and smiled, knowing that Phoebus would soon come to her rescue. He would rescue her, they would live as man and wife and she would bear him sons.

The creaking of the door startled her from this sweet reverie. Her head snapped around, face still smiling.

"I am glad you are in a better mood now, my dear."

At the sound of his voice, her head sank to her chest. Why did he have to come back?

"I will not share a bed with you."

Her eyes were stern and unfaltering. She hated this man, she wanted him to know just how much she hated him.

"When Phoebus comes to save me, he and I will share this bed."

Claude gritted his teeth at the sound of the captain's name.

"You still believe that he will find you? Girl, I am the only one who knows where you are!"

He laughed in her face.

"All of Paris believes you to be a witch. They think that you somehow disappeared from the dungeon by magic. My dear girl, if the captain were to find you, he would surely follow orders to deliver you to the executioner."

He did not care that this statement about her captain caused her pain. He was happy to say it, he would be even happier if she believed him, as it was the truth.

"But, if you remain here with me, no one will hand you over to the gallows."

He whispered into her ear.

"I can keep you safe, I can protect you. As your protector, there are a few rules you need to follow."

He gently pushed her down, so that she was lying on the bed. She gasped, looking up at him with pure fear in her eyes.

"First: You will not speak of your captain again. I do not want to hear you utter even one syllable of his name. Do you understand that?"

He lay down beside her, taking her hand in his.

"Second: You will call me by my name."

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her wrist.

"Third: You are soon to be my wife and I expect you to fulfill the duties of a wife once we are married. Is that clear?"

"No."

She shook her head in a childish fashion.

"No, I do not want to be your wife. I do not love you. It is Phoebus I love! I want to be his wife."

She hoped that these words would wound the priest.

"And how do you think his fiancée would feel about that?"

A smile spread across Claude's face. He felt victorious! He had won one argument at least.

These words cut through Esmeralda and she was at a loss for words.

"oh, Esmeralda, you did not think your captain would actually marry a common gypsy did you?"

He looked at her, a mock frown on his face.

"You are lying!"

She turned away from him, not wanting this conversation to go any further.

"You will not mention his name, you will call me by my name and you will be my wife."

He lay down, knowing that there was nothing more to say. In her confusion the girl turned her head toward him, knowing that he was not asleep just yet.

"But how can I call you by your name if I do not know your name?"

Feeling that this question was a temporary truce, he decided to take advantage of the moment and attempt being 'romantic.'

"My name, if you wish to know is Claude Frollo."

Feeling his breath so near her hear did not put the girl at ease. She felt him wrap an arm around her, but was too exhausted to push him away.

He was to be her husband, she his wife.


	7. Goodbye Love

Thanks for the reviews!

I think there has been a bit of confusion as to where Claude has brought Esmeralda. He hasn't brought her to his cell in the bell tower.

It was really odd writing a "morning after" scene, as I myself have never slept with a guy. So, if that scene falls flat for some, I'm sorry...maybe someday I'll fix it up, but I wanted it to be somewhat akward.

Okay...to sum this chapter up...Claude leaves for a few hours, Esmeralda hears a knock at the door and then Claude enters with an unexpected guest. Claude and the guest briefly discuss common gossip, which Esmeralda over hears. The news saddens her, so Claude gives Esmeralda some good news, even if the news is only to get her to stop crying.

Sorry, no preview...I haven't quite figured out what the next chapter will bring...another suprise guest perhaps, or maybe Esmeralda will show Claude that he can trust her, and he might let her out of the small room.

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She woke at the sound of the bells. She knew she must be close to the cathedral, yet the sound felt so far away. She liked the sound, it comforted her. She sat up, not knowing whether she should wake the man beside her or not. She had never slept in the same bed with a man before and was uncertain of what she should do. Had it been Phoebus who lay next to her, she would have hastened to make breakfast, she would have given him a good morning kiss. But she did not want to kiss him, Claude.

He had told her his name, in hopes that she would forget the captain's. He wanted her to be at ease with him, and besides, he already knew her name.

At last Esmeralda decided that the best course of action would be to rise and get a better look at her surroundings. Plain, white walls, dark wooden furniture and then there was the chest of drawers. She opened the top drawer, first. Beautiful skirts in all different colors; the middle drawer held several bodices and corsets and finally the third held dresses. A small grin escaped her. And then the happy moment ended. Claude was stirring and she didn't know how to react.

"I see you have found the dresses."

She nodded. He rose and attempted to greet her with a small kiss, she turned away and his lips met the side of her head.

"I'll escort you to the washroom and then I will be gone for most of the day."

He sighed, he was hoping that she would be happy that he was awake.

"When will you be back?"

She only asked, wanting to know when she would eat next.

"I do not know."

The question stung in his heart. He did not want to leave her here alone, and he was happy that she wanted him to return quickly.

"There are things I need to do, I need to prepare some arrangements for our wedding."

He replied with a smile.

The morning was a dance of obligation and uncertainty, and then he was gone and she was left in the small room. She lay back down on the bed, fully dressed in a green skirt and white bodice. All that was left for her to do was daydream, or count the number of books Claude had in this room. So, she stood and began to count.

"1…2…3…"

After what she estimated to be a few hours of counting she heard a knock at the door. She was locked in the small bed chamber and could not see who it was. She wanted to cry out, wanted to let whoever was knocking know that she was there, that she needed to be rescued. Perhaps it was Phoebus, yes, he had found her. She was sure it was him.

"Phoebus!"

The sound flew out, before she had a chance to think.

Whoever was at the door must have left, as they didn't answer back.

"Wait."

One helpless word and then she was left in the silence once more.

She had grown bored with counting the priest's books. He had too many and it would take her the entire day to count them.

And then there were voices on the other side of the door. Muffled voices, but still loud enough for her to heard the conversation.

"So, has your brother and his fiancée set a date for their wedding Claude?"

It was a man's voice.

"No, she says she wants to be married in the winter."

"Well, this will be a fine house for the pair!"

Claude nodded in agreement.

"Have you heard the news about that captain of the guard, Phoebus? Common talk is that he will be marrying the daughter of Madame Aloise in the summer. Fleur-De-Lys, I believe is the girl's name."

"No, I haven't heard."

Claude replied, absent mindedly.

"Master Jacques, you know I don't pay much attention to the common gossip. It is not my place to do so."

"That captain was the one involved in that stabbing. It has become common gossip, but the little witch who tried to kill him has disappeared from the prison."

For a brief moment Claude felt his heart stop and all of the air leave his lungs. It was as though someone had struck him in the stomach.

"Yes, I have heard something about that."

Claude suddenly became nervous and the sound of the bells in the distance did little to help.

"Are you alright Master Claude?"

Jacques questioned, unaware of what was running through the priest's mind.

"Yes. I have been ill for a few days, nothing too serious."

Jacques nodded.

"I shall leave you then, to rest."

Claude sank down into a large chair, hand to his head, as Jacques Charmolue let himself out.

Once Claude was certain Charmolue was out the door and a fair enough distance from the house, he stood once more. He walked over to the door to the bed chamber and opened it to find Esmeralda sitting on the bed in tears.

"Is it true?"

She asked in desperation.

Claude knelt down in front of her, knowing what she was asking about.

"Yes. You see, I told you the truth last night."

His voice was gentle, as he pushed her hair back behind her ear. He wanted to be able to comfort her, he just didn't know how.

She fell back onto the pillow, her face buried.

For some moments Claude stood, not knowing what he should do. And then he said something she did not expect him to say.

"Give me your necklace, I may have found your mother."

She sat up, wiping her eyes and stunned to the core at his words.

"What?"

She asked in a shaky voice. He assumed that this would be happy news to the girl. He felt that happy news was needed to combat the unhappy news she had just received.

She looked up at him, handing him her prized necklace. This was what he felt could make her love him. Her mother was key! If he were to find her mother, then she would run into his arms and love him! And she would forget all about the captain.


	8. A Heart Full Of Love

Thank you all so much for the reviews!

Yes the title is that of a song from Les Miserables. I don't own the musical, or any of Hugo's characters.

Let's see here...Claude lies, he goes forth to try and elaborate on the lie and the lie turns out being the truth. Esmeralda comes around and begins liking him.

Preview: Gudule and Esmeralda meet for the first time as mother and daughter and things go horribly awry for Claude.

As always reviews/constructive criticism are welcome, flames not so much.

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After he saw to it that she ate something, Claude needed to leave her again. This time he did not lock her in the bed chamber, he would allow her access to the rest of the house. As he left the house, he stared at the necklace in his hand. He had lied to her. Yes, it was a clever lie, a good enough lie to make her trust him to some extent, but still it was a lie. He pondered how he would find Esmeralda's mother and then remembered that the recluse in the Tower Roland had once had a daughter. Her daughter had been kidnapped. The plan began to form in his mind. He would tell Gudule that Esmeralda was her daughter! Neither the girl, nor the crone would be the wiser. Claude smiled inwardly, knowing the brilliance of such a plan.

For her part, Esmeralda felt conflicted. On one hand she owed Claude something for finding her mother, on the other, she hated him for destroying the happiness she could have had with Phoebus. That day she gladly made the bed and washed herself up. She found a blue skirt, with a dark blue bodice and black corset. She found the combination of colors lovely and decided that the priest would think the same. All day she day dreamed, not of Phoebus, but of her mother. She wondered what her mother would look like, what her voice would sound like, what the whole meeting would be like. She thought about what her mother would say about the priest, about what her mother would say about Phoebus. She wondered if her mother was a proper lady, her mother could teach her how to act in polite society and she could win Phoebus back! Everything seemed perfect that moment.

Claude approached the recluse with the necklace in hand.

"Hello father."

She greeted him, recognizing the trinket.

"That belongs to the little Egyptian demon. She and the rest of her tribe kidnapped and ate my daughter! What are you doing with that?"

Her tone was fierce, full of hate toward the young girl and now Claude for consorting with the girl.

Claude noticed that the recluse was holding something in her hand. He recognized it as a small pink shoe. He fumbled with the pouch he held. He held it up to the barred window and watched Gudule's expression change from anger to shock.

"Esmeralda, is your daughter and you are her mother."

His voice sounded as astonished, as the recluse looked. He was not expecting this to be so easy. He expected for this task to take months, even years, before he found Esmeralda's mother.

Claude had brought with him a piece of paper with some writing on it. He handed her the paper.

"They are directions to where your daughter is staying. She is safe and being cared for."

He decided to omit the fact that he had taken Esmeralda from prison and that he was madly in love with the girl.

"Be at that address at noon tomorrow."

Claude was feeling rather lucky and decided to purchase a small piece of jewelry for Esmeralda. He saw it as an engagement gift. He would propose to her that evening. In his mind, he would kneel down, ring in hand. He would ask for her hand in marriage, she would say yes and wrap her arms around his neck. She would be enthusiastic, that she would want him right then and there.

It was getting late and Claude had not yet returned home. She now wondered if he had just told her that he had found her mother so that she would stop crying, so that she would offer herself to him. He was probably trying to avoid her anger by not coming back until late in the evening while she was asleep.

"Esmeralda."

He called to her from the parlor. She was lying on the bed, staring at an open book. She did not know how to read, but she could pretend it was some fairytale about a knight and a princess. A knight name Phoebus and a princess named Esmeralda.

She placed the book down upon hearing Claude enter.

"Your mother will be visiting us tomorrow."

He was out of breath. He watched as an overwhelmed smile spread across her face. She flung her arms around his neck, embracing him.

Flustered and unsure of how to react, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her.

"You are beautiful."

He carried her into the bed chamber and set her on the bed.

He kissed her forehead, before kneeling. Every fiber of his body was shaking, but somehow he managed to pull the ring from his cassock.

"I…will…I love you Esmeralda."

He was uncertain of what to say, or if he should say anything. For so long he had avoided interactions with women, so he could not tell this one what a normal woman would want to hear. He decided to just slip the small emerald and diamond ring on her finger.

"Will you marry me?"

He looked up at her with utter uncertainty. But she could see that he wanted her answer to be "yes." A part of her screamed out "No!" He had stabbed Phoebus, had watched her be tortured, he was the reason for her misery. And yet he had found her mother.

"Yes."

It took a moment for the word to register, as he had half expected for her to tell him once again that he was not Phoebus and that she would only marry Phoebus.

"When will I meet my mother?"

A single tear hung in her eye.

"You will meet her tomorrow at noon."

It was becoming more obvious to him that he had not thought through his plan. Only now was it occurring to him that Esmeralda might not believe him when she saw Gudule and when he introduced her as the girl's mother. Gudule would no doubt want to know who her daughter was engaged to, what he was doing living alone with a young girl. It finally struck him. He was still a man of god! He could not introduce himself as Esmeralda's husband. And what if Esmeralda mentioned the captain to her mother? He did not even want to think about that.

He decided to quickly change the subject and get his mind off of the facts that still remained. He would work those out another day. Right now he wanted some time alone with his Esmeralda.

"I must say, my dear, that you look lovely this evening."

The grin on his face had gone from kind and loving to perverted, and ugly. He quickly closed and locked the bedroom door, preventing her from rushing out. He wandered back over to the bed and placed both arms on her waist, leaning in, causing her to lean back on the bed.

"My darling, we are to be married soon."

He whispered in her ear, kissing it, trying to persuade her into a little premarital passion.

She was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. She turned her head away from him, not wanting him to go any further. His lips scorched her neck and shoulders, as he gently positioned himself above her.

She closed her eyes, afraid of what he would do next. Even though she had agreed to marry him, she was still repulsed when he became like this.

"Claude."

She whispered his name. It was the first time he had ever heard her say his name and it sounded like poetry!

He stopped, allowing her to open her eyes.

"I'm not ready. I want to be married before we…"

"As do I."

He sighed, slightly disappointed and knowing that if he were to force her, they would be back to her hating him.

It frightened her when he became overly zealous.

He rolled off of her, keeping his arms around her, as he did not want to let go of this moment.

In that moment she turned to him, looking at him with such sincerity.

He looked up into her eyes and saw all the hope the world had to offer. She had never once given up hope that she would find her mother. In a strange way he admired that innocence of hope.


	9. Tinderbox

Thanks for the reviews!

The title is another song title...nope, don't own it. Elton John owns it. I don't own the characters, Hugo does.

Okay...in this chpter Esmeralda and Gudule meet as mother and daughter, Claude begins having doubts and regrets about his choices.

Preview: Gudule's opinion. She and Claude speak privately. Claude passes up a chance of passion with Esmeralda.

As always reviews/constructive ciritcism are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

She awoke, late in the night; sat up, not knowing what she felt. She was anxious about meeting her mother, she was grief-stricken that Phoebus had never loved her and that he was to be married to that blonde girl. She was puzzled why she had said "yes" when the priest had asked for her hand in marriage, and even more so over the fact that she was beginning to enjoy his company.

"Claude."

She whispered, wanting him to wake up and at the very least, join her in her confusion.

"Claude, wake up."

Her tone was sharp and insistent, as she shook his arm.

"What?"

He mumbled groggily.

"I don't know. I just want you to be awake!"

At this bizarre reasoning, Claude opened his eyes and sat up.

"Esmeralda, why did you wake me up?"

"I was thinking."

"No one ever wakes up from a peaceful slumber. I gathered that you were thinking. What is it that you were thinking about?"

He was growing impatient and wanted to go back to sleep.

"I was thinking about my mother," she didn't know how to tell Claude that she had also been thinking about the captain, but that had never stopped her before. "I was also thinking about the conversation I overheard yesterday and, why I agreed to marry you."

He began to fear that this conversation would not go well.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow."

He didn't even want to address her second concern.

"I still don't love you."

Claude gave her a harsh look, one that told her she should choose her words carefully.

"I'm not sure if I will ever really love you, but I like you and I'm going to try. That's why I agreed to marry you."

Claude blinked, stunned that the conversation hadn't turned to her mentioning her childish love for Phoebus. She was willing to try loving him, and that was all he could ask.

"Oh! Esmeralda."

He whispered her name, embracing her. She returned the warm embrace, lying down with him, head upon his chest.

"Where will we go, once we are married?"

"I don't know."

Claude yawned, wanting to go back to sleep.

"What is my mother like?"

Claude thought a moment about how he would word such a delicate answer.

"She is very much like you."

With that he drifted back into his dormant state, and she smiled, kissing his lips. He looked so much like a small child when he slept, a trait she found charming.

* * *

Morning came fast, with her rushing to prepare herself. She placed two dresses on the bed, unable to decide between them.

"Which one?"

She had burst into the washroom, carrying the two dresses and holding them up for Claude to see.

"I highly doubt that it will matter which dress you wear."

He knew nothing about fashion, nothing about women.

"Yes, but which one?"

She was persistent in gaining an answer.

"The pink one looks better against your skin, than the green one."

He rolled his eyes, hoping that this would suffice as a decent answer.

"Are you sure? What if she doesn't like the color pink?"

"I'm sure your mother won't care what color the dress you wear is, she'll be happy to see you no matter what you wear."

Esmeralda nodded and hurried back into the bed chamber. She dressed quickly, hoping to see Claude, before he left that morning.

He opened the door to the bed chamber to see her taking her night chemise off. A heated blush spread across his cheeks, as he stared in awe at the lithe body before him. Her skin, which had once been much darker, was now almost a white, sandy tone. He fought to keep himself in check. His eyes roamed over every inch of her, wanting her to turn toward him. Without warning, he rushed to grab hold of her. He stood behind her, placing his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck.

Startled Esmeralda turned to face him.

"OH!"

He groaned, his face contorted into a smile of lust and pain. He had wanted this for what seemed like an eternity and here she was, grabbing the bed sheet to hide herself from his gaze.

He kept his arms around her, hoping that she'd remove the sheet, so that he could see more, so that he could kiss her bare neck and so that his hands could travel over that heavenly body.

Her wordless stare of caution told him to leave, that he was frightening her. He walked backwards, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of her bare flesh one more time.

After he had left the room, she continued to dress for the day ahead. She had been unaware of what to do with him just staring at her. For a brief moment she had thought about leaning into him, letting him hold and comfort her. She wanted him to at the very least say something.

At last, she was dressed and left the room to see Claude off.

"I am sorry for earlier."

In all truth, he was not sorry. He had hoped that she would have returned his embrace, that she would have let him explore her skin and find out how gentle his touch should be with her. He knew though, that he would not have stopped there and was somewhat thankful that she had covered herself.

She gave him a calm and steady look. He kept his gaze on the floor, not sure if he should meet her eyes.

"I will return just before noon."

She could scarcely hear him, with his head aimed at the ground.

With that he left the house and made his way to the cathedral. The fact still remained that he was a priest. He did not see how he could simply give that up, though he had others do it before. They would simple state that they no longer believed in god. But in truth he believed in god more now, than he ever had before. He would have to stand before a Sunday crowd and tell them that he was leaving the church. Scandal would ensue, gossip would spread and everywhere he went a finger would be pointed at both he and Esmeralda.

Or he could just disappear. He could take his sweet fiancé and her mother far from Paris and marry Esmeralda once they had found a home.

And then his mind turned from one problem to another; Esmeralda's mother. The recluse hated all gypsies, but held a special amount of unadulterated hatred for Esmeralda. And just what would Gudule think about his engagement to Esmeralda? He knew that she'd disapprove, knew that she could begin some amount of gossip. He would have to leave the priesthood much sooner than he had first anticipated. He would have to return home today, no longer a man of god.

It was near noon and she paced, in anticipation of Claude's arrival. She was wringing her hands, biting her bottom lip and a panic-stricken look on her face. The door was opening and the moment she saw him, she rushed at him.

"You're here!"

The sudden jolt of her excitement shocked him. But then she looked up at him, his clothes were different. He wore a black and white doublet and black hoisiers. He wasn't wearing his cassock.

"I…I'm no longer a priest."

He addressed the issue of his clothes immediately.

She didn't know what to say, she didn't know why he had stopped being a priest.

"Why?"

She asked. She knew nothing of his religion and did not understand his actions.

"Priests are not allowed to take wives. And your mother knows me as a priest…I could not just introduce myself as your husband. Do you understand?"

He felt odd trying to explain things to her.

She tried to understand the reason, not the outcome.

"If you love me, then what does it matter what your profession is?"

"It's a religious rule, not my own."

She could see that the discussion of this topic was causing him emotional distress.

There was nothing she could think of doing to make him happy again. H retreated into the bed chamber to sulk.

Esmeralda walked into the room. She saw him sitting at the desk, a large book open. She stood behind him and placed her arms on his shoulders, letting him know that she was there, ready to comfort him.

"My mother will be here soon."

Reality was setting in for Claude and he was having regrets; regrets about her, regrets about asking her to marry him, regrets about not marrying her before he found her mother. Reality had set in, and it was a painful, sobering experience.

A knock at the door was Claude's cue. He led Esmeralda back into the parlor, to a chair. She sat down, heart racing and unable to keep from smiling.

Claude opened the door and allowed Gudule to enter. He held his breath, waiting for disaster to strike and just as he had expected, it did.

"Is this some joke? You dressed that hideous viper, a gypsy demon and dress her up and claim that I should accept her as my daughter?"

Gudule's voice was loud and raspy. She regarded Esmeralda with disdain.

"You are not my daughter!"

Esmeralda sank further in the chair, afraid of this old woman. This same woman who had cursed her every day of her existence was her mother.

Claude still carried Esmeralda's necklace with him. He withdrew the shoe and gave it to Esmeralda, hoping it would aid her in speaking.

"And you," Gudule turned to Claude. "Were you actually a priest, or was that some joke as well?"

See the pink silk Gugule held in her hand, Esmeralda held up her shoe. The room went silent. There was no more yelling, no more fingers being pointed, nothing.

"If I am not your daughter, then why do I have this?"

Gudule slinked down into the chair, next to Esmeralda.

"Where did you find that?"

Gudule clutched Esmeralda's shoe, and held it up to her shoe.

"I have had it for as long as I can remember. You are my mother."

"My daughter!"

She whisper over and over again to herself.

"That still does not answer everything."

Gudule spoke, looking up at Claude. Claude was afraid to speak.

"Mother, he is to be my husband."

For the first time, Esmeralda looked up at him, smiling at the fact that they were to be married.

"leave us." Gudule commanded Claude to leave the room. He obeyed, as he feared what would happen if he hadn't.

"How is it that he has come to be your betrothed?"

"That is not easy to explain."

Esmeralda thought through all of the past events between she and Claude. How would she explain to her mother that he had framed her for murder, that she had once loved another man, that the other man was to wed another woman, that Claude had rescued her and now they were engaged.

She didn't know how to explain it all, but she did. Oddly Claude had become the elephant in the room and there was no other way around it, other than to introduce him as what he was to her.


	10. Say What You Need To Say

Thank you all so much for the reviews!

Let's see here...nope, I don't own the song Say What You Need To Say by John Meyer, and I don't own any of thse characters, Hugo does.

I have decided to make Gudule very stuborn and opinionated, instead of some crazy old hag.

Summary: Gudule doesn't like Claude much, she wants to get Esmeralda away from him.

Claude starts doubting the reasons why Esmeralda agreed to marry him and finally tells her the truth about how he found her mother.

Preview: Esmeralda returns to Rheims with her mother. Jehan stops by to see his dear ol' brother, Claude. Gudule becomes friends with someone unexpected.

Reviews/constructive criticism are always welcome...flames not so much.

I'll be busy this weekend and Monday, so I'm not sure if I'll have time to update until Tuesday.

* * *

At last, Gudule felt free to weigh in on what her daughter had told her. Her lips pursed with a disproving air and her eyebrows knit, she looked at her daughter.

"No. You are not marrying that man. He attempted to murder another man. He allowed you to be tortured for a crime you did not commit! He is a terrible and violent man."

Esmeralda frowned, not knowing what to say.

"He saved my life. Had it not been for him I would have been hanged and I would not have found you."

Gudule stood, advancing toward the bed chamber.

"That may be so, however your place is with me in Rheims. That is where I lived before I came to Paris I have an inheritance there and you will marry a man who is not some murdering, perverted madman! Ask your self if you actually trust that he will not try to kill you. If the answer is that he might, then you will come with me, if you are completely certain and convinced that he will not, then I shall consider a different course of action."

She knocked on the door to the bed chamber.

"Claude, I wish to speak with you."

Claude opened the door, letting her in. This would be a private matter, though he already heard what Gudule had to say to her daughter.

"I should not need to tell you that I do not approve of what you have done. Yes, I am thankful for the fact that you have reunited my daughter and I. Let me get to the point; call off your engagement to my daughter and leave her be. Do not tell me that you love her, or that she loves you. She is obviously overwhelmed with what you claim to have done for her. I do not trust you alone with her. You have attempted to murder one man, what makes me believe that you will not harm my little Agnes?"

Claude tried to search for some words to convince the tiger of a woman that he loved Esmeralda, or "Agnes" as she called her. But he found none. He had far too much on his mind to deal with this. He was thinking about his sacrifice for her, what she had cost him and he was assessing whether or not she was truly worth it.

"If I did not love your daughter, I would have remained a man of God."

He did not mean to say it as bitterly as he did.

"I did not give up all that mattered to me for one night of passion with her, nor did I give everything up just to break her heart."

Gudule shook her head.

"You gave it all up, because you are a selfish man. Not once have you told me how she feels about your decisions."

Claude looked down, sheepishly. He knew that Gudule was right.

"I come by in the morning and help my daughter gather her things. She and I will be leaving Paris tomorrow night."

This statement hit Claude, he was not expecting this. He had no defense for that statement.

Before Gudule left the room, she turned to him with a few last words.

"You can claim that you love my daughter all you want, but can you defend those words?"

She waited for a reaction, but he had none.

"That is what I thought."

She turned to see her daughter, to hug her and say a brief goodbye. Esmeralda led her out. Gudule could tell by the look on the girl's face that she had heard every single word uttered between her and Claude. She did not apologize for any of it.

After Gudule was gone, Esmeralda noticed Claude sitting at the desk again. She went to him, standing in front of the desk.

"I love you."

She began the conversation, a quick and to the point statement. One that she knew would catch his attention.

"Esmeralda,"

Claude sighed with exasperation.

"I'm not sure if I choose the right course of action. I can't say that I love you."

He looked her dead in the face. At these words she looked as though she would crumble.

"I have given up everything. You have cost me everything I once loved. I once loved God, prayed to God, worshipped God. And then I saw you and everything changed. Today, when I was leaving Notre-Dame I looked back, questioning whether what I was doing was indeed right or not. I now have the answer."

He saw tears swelling in Esmeralda's eyes, he saw her crinkle her nose and purse her lips to prevent herself from coming undone. But all was in vain. She bolted into the parlor, closing the door behind her. Just as he told her how he had sacrificed so much for her, she was remembering how he took everything she had once loved. She too questioned why she had uttered that sweet little phrase. It was because he was all she had left, it was because he had helped her find her mother. It was because she honestly did, for a brief moment, love him.

She sat in an arm chair, crying, hoping that he would come out of their bed chamber and console her, tell her that it was some practical joke, take her in his arms and tell her once again how much he loved her. He did not.

Claude sat, reading the large book on the desk. It never occurred to him that he could never return to his former life. He thought about the young girl who was crying outside the bed room door. He had never thought that his lack of love for her would bring her to tears. He had not believed her when she told him she loved him, but hearing her sobs changed his mind. Once again, clueless as to what he should do, he opened the door and exited into the parlor.

Just as he was all she had, she was all he had.

He silently knelt down, stroking her arm. She looked at him with watery eyes and a pout on her face.

"I needed time to think something over."

He stated casually.

"Did you come to a conclusion? Or have you come out here to tell me to leave?"

It was visible how much of an impact his words had had on her.

"I don't want you to go to Rheims…at least not without me. I want to know how you feel about what I did."

He wasn't used to talking about emotions, so he had no idea how to broach the subject.

"I don't know how I feel. I am glad that you left the priesthood to be with me."

She said, at last understanding why he had to.

"But, I wish there had been some way around that. Do you think, someday you could tell me more about your religion?"

It was a small peace offering, another truce in between battles.

"Yes."

He stood and re-entered the bed chamber, returning with a book.

"The Bible. It has the teachings of my religion written down."

She took the worn copy, opening it and squinting her eyes.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had no idea how to read. He cleared his throat, chuckling.

"It's upside down."

He smiled, watching her turn the book right side up.

"You don't know how to read, do you?"

It was a rhetorical question.

"I want to go to bed."

She rose, yawning. It had been a very taxing day for them both. He escorted her to the door of their bed chamber, reassuring her that he would soon join her.

* * *

The next morning Claude rose, awaiting Gudule's arrival. He was ready to defend his words this time. He was ready to defend the fact that he loved Esmeralda and that he could not bring himself to harm her.

As the sound of the bells noted ten o'clock Gudule knocked on the door.

"Where is my daughter?"

Claude gulped down some air before showing her in.

"She is still asleep. Yesterday you asked me if I could defend my claims of love for your daughter and I wasn't prepared for that."

Gudule nodded, letting him know that she was listening.

"Have I done things I regret? Yes. But I will never regret my love for her!"

Gudule seemed ready to hear him out, or at the very least offer a compromise.

"Two weeks. She will come to live with me in Rheims for two weeks, before you join her. I think sometime away from you will be good for her. It will help her clear her head. If at the end of those two weeks time she does not wish for you to marry her, or pursue her you will respect her wishes. Is that clear?"

Claude nodded affirmatively.

"And if she still loves me?"

"Sir, what you call love I call delusion. Too much has happened to her in so short a time that she is unable to make such a decision."

"And if she still loves me?"

Claude was going to press this matter until Gudule answered him.

"You two will be wed with my blessing."

One thing Gudule admired in this man was his determination.

"Thank you mother!"

A mass of black hair and white cloth darted from the bed chamber. Esmeralda threw her arms around her mother, not wanting to let go.

"I must go now. I will still return for my daughter before sunset."

Gudule said, releasing her daughter. She let herself out.

"Come back to bed Claude."

Esmeralda's voice was loving and held a romantic quality to it. Claude hardly saw it fit that he refuse her this request.

Once inside the bed chamber she threw her arms around his neck and hungrily kissed his lips.

"Marry me."

She demanded.

"What?"

"This afternoon, before my mother returns. She can't have you stay here once we are married."

She led him to the bed, hoping that this act would be persuasive enough.

"Esmeralda, it isn't that simple."

As he felt her hand slip beneath his tunic, he withdrew from the embrace. As much as he wanted to take her, in his heart he knew that Gudule was right. Everything was moving too fast. She wasn't in love with him; she was in love with what he had done for her.

"Esmeralda, would you love me even if I had not found your mother?"

It was the most loaded question he could have asked her. But he wanted the truth. She looked at him with a perplexing and questioning expression, which answered his question.

"Did you agree to marry me, just because you found out that your captain was betrothed?"

She looked up at him, turning her head away from him, not wanting him to see the answer written on her face.

"I don't want to marry you, unless you want to marry me. And I want you to marry me because you love me."

She hung her head, unable to respond.

"I…I lied to you. I didn't actually know that Gudule was your mother. I just wanted you to look at me the way you did the captain. It was just coincidental that Gudule was your mother."

Claude decided that being honest now would be better than her finding out the truth later on. He would rather have her honest hate, than her false love.

With that he had said everything he needed to for the day and left the room and the house.


	11. Look I Find What You teach Suspect

Nope don't own the lyrics to this song from Rent...don't own the characters.

Jehan annoys his brother into telling him about Esmeralda. Claude decides that he really does love Esmeralda. Gudule's friend is someone Esmeralda has already met. Esmeralda doesn't want to marry anyone other than Claude.

Preview: Claude arrives in Rheims to see Esmeralda, they talk and decide to go forward with the engagement. Gudule plans an engagement party for them. Things become intense and juicy when certain faces from both Esmeralda's and Claude's past arrive at the party.

* * *

It had been a week since Esmeralda had left the small house in Paris. Claude's demeanor had changed drastically. He had no purpose in life now that he was no longer a priest, now that he doubted his love for Esmeralda. He sometimes wondered if Esmeralda still thought of him, he still thought of her. He did love her, but the fact still remained that she had only "loved" him, because he had found her mother. He questioned whether or not she would have agreed to marry him if her captain was not betrothed. He knew she wouldn't have. He knew that she still loved her captain and would go on loving him.

He had given up everything for her and she was willing to give him only false words in return. While he mused over his true feelings for her, he heard a knock at the door.

"Brother, let me in."

Claude rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. He didn't want company, didn't want his brother to know that he was no longer a priest. Claude reluctantly opened the door.

"What do you want?"

Claude saw no point in beating around the bush, or giving his brother lectures.

"Let me in."

Jehan pushed past his brother.

Once inside he noticed that Claude wasn't wearing his cassock. Claude turned away, trying to retreat back to the bed chamber to finish reading.

"This is a new development."

Jehan began, not knowing what sort of conversation he was in for.

"Is there something you have forgotten to tell me brother?"

Jehan smiled, mischievously.

"I have not forgotten to tell you anything."

Claude replied, in a matter of fact tone.

"Then there is something you haven't told me at all."

Claude saw that they would be talking in cryptic circles until he told Jehan what had happened. And he wasn't about to do that.

"Get to the point Jehan. Why are you here?"

Jehan cleared his throat and Claude prepared for their usual tug of war.

"I need money."

"If I give you the money you are asking for, then will you leave?"

Jehan was intrigued by this answer. It had never been this easy before.

"What, no lecture? To answer your question; no. I want to know why you are no wearing your priestly garb."

"I am no longer a priest."

Claude stated flatly, throwing a purse full of coins down on the desk. He hoped that this would make Jehan leave.

"Now onto the next question. Why are you no longer a priest?"

Jehan saw food for thought in this conversation.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me."

Jehan sat down, awaiting his brother's answer.

"If you're not going to tell me, then I'll guess."

Jehan settled in, letting Claude know that he had all the time in the world.

"You do not believe in God?"

Claude just rolled his eyes, and began reading again.

"That's not it. You sold your soul to the Devil?"

No reaction.

"You got drunk and then got into a fight?"

Still no reaction and Jehan wanted a reaction.

"I know. It must be a woman then!"

This guess made sense, as his brother had given him money to give to a female friend of his to purchase some dresses.

It was as though the light bulb had gone off in his head. And at those words Claude looked up at him.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Claude tried to ignore his brother.

"So, tell me, who is the lucky girl who gets to deflower my virginal, self righteous brother Claude?"

He couldn't picture Claude with a woman and keep a straight face.

"That is none of your business Jehan."

"Ah, but it is. I know women. I could give you some advice, depending upon your situation. Of course, my advice comes with a price."

"Did I ask for your advice?"

It appeared that this was a touchy subject for Claude. Jehan felt the need to probe further.

"Does this girl know you want her?"

Claude was becoming annoyed.

"If I tell you that, will you leave?"

"Perhaps."

"Then, yes she knows."

Jehan found it the opportune moment to play twenty questions with his brother.

"Does she want you? Wait, if she wanted you, you'd be happy and smiling. What was I thinking!"

He hit his head with the heel of his hand.

"Is she a woman I would know? No…my brother doesn't frequent brothels."

Jehan figured that if he kept going, his brother would chime in.

"Let's see now...where and how could my brother have met a woman? Let me think…was she wealthy?"

Jehan waited for an answer, but took his brother's silence as a negative.

"Not rich then."

"She's not rich and she's no one you would know."

Claude was growing tired with this game.

"Then give me a clue."

"She has dark hair and dark eyes."

Claude wasn't going to give his brother all the information he wanted.

"I can only think of one girl with dark hair and dark eyes. Tell me brother, does this girl dance?"

Claude's face went red.

"So, she is a dancer. Does she dance with a goat?"

Claude rolled his eyes.

"She's a dark haired, dark browned eyed dancing girl with a goat. I'll be her name is Esmeralda."

Claude remained silent.

"You know that the entire town is saying she is a witch. She disappeared from the dungeon."

Claude looked down.

"Or did she? I think she might have had some help."

Jehan noticed that his brother began to shake.

"Tell me Claude, does she want you?"

"No. She is in love with another man."

"I don't blame her. That little witch could have her pick of men if she wanted."

Jehan stood, grabbing small objects, hoping he could sell them or give them as gifts to Isabeau.

"You know the man she is in love with. I saw you exit La Pomme D'Eve one night."

Jehan gave his brother a severe and questioning look.

"And all this time you have preached to me about my soul and where it is heading."

Jehan knew who his brother was talking about.

"The common gossip was that a phantom monk had been involved with the stabbing."

Jehan eyed his brother with caution.

"Of course the girl detests you. You tried to murder the man she loves."

Jehan whispered in an austere tone. Claude had never seen his brother so serious about something, other than drinking, women, or gambling.

"Where is she now?"

Claude didn't want to answer this question. He already feared that his brother would run and tell the captain the entire story.

"You will not say anything. If you do, I will wrap my hands around your throat and hold you, until you suffocate."

Jehan saw the stone cold sincerity in his brother's eyes. He decided that now would be the best time to leave. He stumbled over to the door and out of the house, never once taking his eyes off of his brother.

Claude now realized that he did love Esmeralda, that he wanted to protect her and he her husband. The question still remained, did she? He would go to her and show her his commitment to her, show her mother that he would give anything for her child. He decided that he would go to Rheims.

* * *

Esmeralda too had been given time to think. On a daily basis she would look at the ring on her finger. She still loved Phoebus. In truth she liked Claude, and was willing to marry him, just as she had "married" Gringoire. She could not see herself being romantic with Claude and in all honesty, hated the idea of any man other than Phoebus touching her.

On this day, Gudule had invited an old friend to Rheims. A friend she had not seen in years, and a friend who had some good connections in Paris. All Esmeralda had heard her mother say was that this friend also had a daughter and that the daughter was also engaged.

As a small carriage pulled up to the house, and the woman inside of it stepped out Esmeralda gasped.

"Mother, I know her!"

Gudule gave her child a puzzled look.

"Phoebus."

Esmeralda whispered.

"Yes, her cousin's name is Phoebus. He is engaged to her daughter."

Esmeralda felt faint and felt the color drain from her face.

"No."

Esmeralda yelped, worried that the woman would recognize her.

"No. Mother, I was arrested for killing Phoebus."

She shook her head frantically, as reality set in.

"If she recognizes me she'll had me over to the captain for sure!"

Gudule was speechless, she had not known that her daughter had met her friend.

"My child, you are dressed in the finest silk, your hair is clean, your tan has faded. I doubt that she will recognize you as a gypsy. Besides, a friend of hers is looking for a young girl for her son. Madame Aloise needs to meet you."

Esmeralda gulped in fear as her mother opened the door to greet Madame Aloise.

"Hello my dear friend! How have you bee?"

Gudule exclaimed, happy to know that she had not been forgotten about.

"I have been well. And yourself? I heard that you were finally reunited with your daughter."

"Yes. She is inside, I will take you to meet her."

Esmeralda's eyes were wide with anxiety.

"Agnes, this is Madame Aloise. Madame Aloise, I would like you to meet my daughter, Agnes."

Gudule beamed, saying this.

"Pleased to make your aquaintence, Madame."

Esmeralda gave a slight curtsey and held her breath, hoping the woman would not recognize her.

"And it is very nice to finally meet you."

Madame Aloise politely tilted her head in response.

"It is amazing that we have not met before my child. Gudule, where did you say this young lady was living, before you were reunited?"

Gudule thought quickly.

"Lyon. She came for the Festival in January."

"Ah. And how did Paris compare to Lyon my dear?"

Madame Aloise redirected the conversation to Esmeralda.

"I liked it much better, thank you."

"Well, let's not all stand around. Lunch will be served in a few moments, we should gather in the dinning room."

Gudule led the way.

"Tell me Agnes, are you betrothed to anyone?"

"Y-"

"No she is not."

Gudule interrupted, not wanting Esmeralda to mention Claude.

"Then I know a young man who would love to meet you."

Esmeralda nodded, catching on to this little game.

"My daughter will be marrying this June. If you like Agnes, I can arrange for you to meet my friend's son then?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

Esmeralda was growing uncomfortable.

"Mother I am feeling ill. I need to go lie down for a while. May I be excused?"

"What is it?"

"I have a headache and I feel ill."

"Then yes my child, you may be excused."

Esmeralda left the table and entered her small room. She did not want to hear talk of Phoebus and that other girl. She did not want to marry someone who wasn't…who wasn't…

"Claude."

She whispered, looking down at her ring. She wanted to wound Phoebus, the way he had wounded her. She wanted to make him jealous and give Claude what she had wanted to give to the captain. The only question now in her mind was whether or not Claude still loved her.

That evening, after Madame Aloise had left, Esmeralda re-emerged from her room.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes mother. Thank you."

Esmeralda did not know how to continue, but she felt she had to say something.

"Mother, I love Claude. I do not want to marry anyone else; I want to marry Claude."

Gudule gave her daughter a look of agitation. She still did not want her daughter marrying that man and was hoping that she had forgotten about him by now.

"You are certain you love him?"

Esmeralda didn't actually love him, but he had been honest with her for the most part. So, she gave her mother the only answer that would suffice.

"Yes."


	12. Take Me Out Tonight

Thanks, once again to my reviewers. You guys keep me writing and make it so easy to update.

Nope, don't own the song...don't own the characters.

Summary: Claude arrives in Rheims to tell Esme how he feels. Esme tells him how she feels, and things get intense between the two. Gudule lays down some rules for them both to follow and Esme starts getting to know Claude.

Preview: Claude goes back to Paris to tie up some loose ends. Engagement party. Claude and Esme sneak off and have a party of their own.

Next chapter this story will be moved to the "M" section.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly. Gudule had hired a tutor to teach her daughter to read and write, something which the girl was eager to learn. She wanted to read the book Claude had given her. The idea and the intentions were easy to have, however the act was not so easy. She fumbled over sentences and kept writing illegible words. She wanted to be able to show Claude her progress, but she had made almost none. She was too lively to stay seated all day and listen to her tutor's lessons, she wanted to be outside dancing.

"Child you need to pay more attention."

Her mother had repeated these words over a thousand times.

Hearing a horse outside, Gudule went to the window to see what was going on. It was Agnes' fiancé. She had told him to give Agnes two weeks to think things through and it had only been ten days. She opened the door and met him outside.

"What are you doing here?"

Her face was hard and unforgiving.

"I need to speak to Esmeralda."

"What do you wish to speak to my daughter about?"

Claude did not want a repeat of what had happened in Paris.

"I want to know how she feels about our engagement."

At these words, Gudule allowed him to enter her home.

"Agnes you have a visitor."

Esmeralda gladly stood and retreated from her lesson.

Claude cleared his throat. He had thought through what he would say to her, but now words seemed to fail him.

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

"Yes."

Esmeralda led him to her room, closing the door behind them.

"Esmeralda…I…"

What he had to say was difficult and then he noticed that she was still wearing the ring he had bought for her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"Does this mean that you want to marry me?"

He asked her.

She turned from him, trying to buy time in search of the proper answer.

"Yes."

"And this means that you love me?"

She closed her eyes, and began to speak.

"I want to marry you Claude. I want to be happy with you, as I can not be happy with Phoebus."

Claude nodded. He had expected such an answer. He turned to leave, but then heard her sob.

"I want to love you. I want Phoebus to look at you with jealousy. I do not love him anymore."

Claude turned back to her and placed his arms around her.

"I came here to tell you that I do not care if you love me. I have given up far too much not to have you as my wife. I love you and whether you return my feelings or not you will be my wife."

He let his hand travel down her inner thigh and heard her gasp sharply. His hand travelled back up to untie her bodice. She was petrified, but did not know if it was from indignation or if it was from wanting him to go further. He felt her try to pull away, but he held her in place.

"I love you, Esmeralda."

He whispered into her ear. She felt his steamy breath on her neck as he began to kiss her. She turned, meeting his tongue with her own.

"Oh, Claude!"

She whispered back in excitement.

Her bodice had slipped down to her waist and Claude was enjoying the sight of her bare breasts. Seeing the satisfaction in his eyes, she knelt down to untie the laces of his hoisiers.

"Are you finished talking?"

Gudule was knocking at the door, asking to have a word with them. Claude hung his head in disappointment. He was hoping to show his fiancée just how much he loved her. He was hoping that the forward act of love would convince her to love him. Esmeralda stood, retying the laces of her bodice, leaving Claude to square himself away. Both of them had gotten so caught up in the moment that neither one of them was able to answer.

Gudule opened the door to see her daughter's hair mussed and an idiotic grin on Claude's face. She shook her head and mumbled something under her breath, as she led the way to the kitchen table.

Once sitting, Gudule was the first to speak.

"Obviously and for some reason, one which I do not understand, my daughter is in love with you. As you both are living here with me, there need to be some rules set into place. One: You will sleep in separate rooms, until you are married. Two: Sir, you had better find some way of supporting yourself and my daughter. Three: You will call my daughter by her baptismal name, which is Agnes. Are these rules understood?"

Gudule looked at Claude and then her daughter.

"Yes Madame."

They spoke in unison, like two children who had been caught getting themselves into trouble.

"Now, I am going to make the arrangements for an engagement party, which will be three weeks from today. I trust that all of my rules will be followed," She turned to Claude. "that you will find employment."

They both nodded, letting the woman know they understood.

Gudule smiled, happy that the rules were understood.

"Oh, and one more rule. Neither of you will enter the other's bed chamber, unless you have my permission."

Esmeralda smiled and giggled. Claude was blushing.

"I have something to show you."

She stood and led him into the library.

"I have been taking lessons on how to read and write."

She held up a sample of what she had already learned. Claude smiled and nodded. He was still reeling from the embarrassment of his soon to be mother in-law almost walking in on them. On closer inspection he could see the beginnings of his name. It brought a smile to his face. She may have taught her goat to spell "Phoebus," but she herself was learning how to spell "Claude." He folded up the paper and placed it in his doublet. He would look at it later that night when he was alone in his room and thinking about her.

"When do you want to get married?"

He asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"I want to be married shortly after our engagement party."

Claude nodded in agreement.

He followed her into the parlor, where she sat on a sofa. He accompanied her, placing his arm around her shoulders. She turned to face him, kissing him. If this was her way of "trying" to love him, then he approved. He let his arms slip down around her back, cupping her head as he lay her down.

He may not have been as handsome as the captain, but at least he loved her. That was more than the captain ever did for her. After several minutes of osculation and warm caresses the two pried one another from the other's arms. It was getting late and all she really wanted now was for him to hold her in his arms and talk to her.

"Claude, where did you grow up?"

If this man was going to be her husband they at least needed to be able to talk to each other.

"I grew up in Paris. My parents wanted me to become a priest, so they sent me to the university early on."

He was happy to just sit and cuddle her, while telling her about himself.

"Where did you grow up?"

He asked without thinking.

"My tribe travelled throughout Spain and France mostly. The woman who raised me died a year ago."

She answered, not thinking of it as a stupid question.

"Did you want to become a priest?"

This was something he had never pondered until now. He loved knowledge and he liked that being a priest gave him a position of power, and that his power could gain him access to knowledge.

"I have never really thought of it in terms of what I wanted."

He responded after several moments.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

She asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yes. I have a brother and his name is Jehan."

"Is he a priest?"

Claude chuckled at her innocence and at how many questions she could manage to ask.

"I raised him. Our parents died, leaving him as my only kin. I wanted for him to follow in my footsteps, however he has not done so successfully."

"Do you have any…"

He realized how absurd the question was, but she answered anyways.

"I had several in my tribe. Some were dancers, others told fortunes, others earned their money in different ways. You would have to ask my mother if I had any sisters or brothers by her."

She smiled, kissing his forehead and letting him know that this felt odd to her too.

"What is your favorite activity?"

She asked, already having a good idea of what he would say.

"I like to read. And yours?"

"Dancing. I miss being outside and dancing."

Her voice and her eyes seemed to be elsewhere.

Her eyes were starting to droop, and she was feeling drowsy. She placed her head on his chest, snuggling up to him. Within seconds she was asleep. He did not know whether or not he should pick her up and carry her into her room. It would be going against Gudule's rules, but he cradled her in his arms and walked with her into her bed chamber, setting her down on the bed as gently as possible.

He glanced around and saw that Gudule was nowhere in sight. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, before leaving.


	13. Poker Face

Hey all, thank you so much for the reviews.

I know I said this next chapter would be a three in one sort of deal, but I've decided to break the long 3 in one into just 3 chapters. Nope, I don't own the song, "Poker Face." Lady Gaga owns it...I just happened to have it in my head. Don't own the characters either, Hugo does.

Summary: Claude goes to find Gringoire. Claude goes and finds Jehan. Jehan has discovered that he's gotten a girl pregnant.

Preview: Engagement party. Two faces from Esmeralda and Claude's past show up. Jehan tries to make things right with the girl he has impregnated.

As always reviews/constructive criticism are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

It had been two weeks, since Claude's arrival in Rheims. He had begun tutoring students in Latin, teaching some how to read and write. He had even taken charge and fired Esmeralda's tutor, seeing that his eyes wandered, as did his hands over his fiancée. But Claude did not feel he had the patience to instruct her himself. He would go to Paris and find someone who could instruct her.

It was early morning when Esmeralda stood outside, seeing Claude off. They kissed, he held her for as long as he could, at least until Gudule pulled her daughter away. He would be gone for a few days and he had promised to bring her home a surprise. He had told her that she had three days to guess what the surprise was, and that if she guessed correctly she would receive it, and if she guessed incorrectly, she would not.

It had been one full day. Claude had made excellent time and had arrived in Paris, ahead of schedule. He did not know what he should do first; track down Gringoire or find Jehan. He decided that the latter would be easier, and he should devote most of his time to the more difficult task. He knew that Gringoire had once collected Esmeralda's coins and performed in front of Notre-Dame. It seemed like the most obvious place to begin his search. He found several men and a few young girls crowded around the Parvis and decided to ask them if they knew of his whereabouts. He approached the crowd, putting the hood of his cloak up to disguise his face.

"Excuse me, but might any of you know where I can find the poet, Pierre Gringoire?"

An older gypsy male stepped forward, holding out an old hat.

"Alms sir?"

Claude declined.

"If you have nothing to give to charity, then perhaps I have nothing to tell you of the poet you seek."

With this Claude reluctantly opened his purse and tossed a few coins in.

"The poet that you seek is inside the cathedral, looking at the windows or some such nonsense."

Claude rolled his eyes and walked away from the crowd. He hated the idea of entering the cathedral. He knew that people would recognize him, that they'd approach him with all sorts of questions and he did not want to deal with those questions now.

"You, go in and fetch him for me."

Claude commanded, opening his purse for the man once more.

"I shall give you two coins now for going in and five more if you return with Pierre Gringoire."

"What do we have here? A man who does not wish to enter Notre-Dame?"

The gypsy man laughed, and the laughter of the crowd followed.

"Tell me, what kind of man are you that you yourself cannot go in and fetch the man you seek?"

"Four coins now and ten when you return."

Claude did his best to avoid the subject of the cathedral by keeping his voice strong and respected.

"What is your business with our brother Gringoire?"

The gypsy man was beginning to irritate Claude.

"Eight coins now and twenty when you return. That is my final offer to you. Or, perhaps someone else would be willing to take that offer?"

Claude turned away from the gypsy man and faced the rest of the crowd.

"The eight coins sir."

At last the man held out his hat, allowing Claude to drop the eight coins in. He then meandered into the cathedral to retrieve the poet, shoving Gringoire out, towards Claude.

"Master Pierre Gringoire?"

Claude asked, making certain it was him.

"Yes sir."

Gringoire nodded.

Claude tossed the purse into the gypsy's hat, not caring to count out the coins.

"Come with me."

Gringoire was hesitant, not knowing who this man was or why he wanted him to follow. The cloaked figure led Gringoire down an alley and removed his hood.

"Master Claude?"

It had become popular rumor that Claude Frollo had fled Paris.

"Master Gringoire, do you remember that little gypsy girl of yours?"

"Yes. It has been said that she died in prison."

Claude shook his head and rolled his eyes. Didn't people have anything better to do than to talk about things they knew nothing about to begin with?

"No. She is safe, however that is all I can tell you for now."

Gringoire's eyes became huge with shock.

"I need you to accompany me to Rheims. Meet me here at three o'clock this evening."

With that Claude left Gringoire confused and stunned. He would now go in search of Jehan, to try and tie up lose ends. He did not want Jehan to go telling his friend, the captain where the gypsy girl was and he needed to be certain he could trust his brother. Claude's first instinct was to wander through the university, however that served to be useless. He had asked several students if they knew his younger brother. The ones who said they knew him were too drunk to piece together a sentence. Claude's second instinct was to check local pubs. The barkeeps had told him to check La Val D'Amour. Claude stood outside of the brothel, wondering what the best course of action to be. He could wait outside for his brother, grab him when he was leaving and have him follow him. That could make too much of a scene, and passersby might wonder what a cloaked man was doing, waiting outside of this place. He could go in and ask if anyone had seen his brother, which unfortunately seemed to be the best plan at the moment. It was still day, not many men were present. One woman walked up to him and placed an arm around him.

"Hello."

She greeted him, placing a leg around him, stroking his face with one hand. She was trying to entice him into a little afternoon pleasure, however Claude was not interested. Her breath smelled of puke and brandy. Her speech was slurred and her lips were covered in warts. Claude cringed at the sight of her and shoved her away.

"I am engaged!"

He bellowed, hoping that this would deter her or any other prostitute from grabbing hold of him.

"And there are some who are married."

The woman stood, falling back down.

"Do you know of a man by the name of Jehan Frollo Du Moulin?"

Claude grew tired of this place and wanted to leave as soon as he found his brother.

"Who doesn't?"

The same woman laughed, grabbing a bottle of wine and downing it.

"Have you seen him?"

"Why, does he owe you money?"

Claude shook his head, answering "no."

"That seems to be a first."

The whore hiccupped, patting Claude's chest in a jovial manner.

"I believe he is at La Falourdel's with Isabeau. It has been going around that she is preg…pregnant by him."

Claude grimaced at the woman's tottering and slurred speech.

"Thank you."

He said and then left, not wanting to spend more time than he had to in that awful place. He was glad that Esmeralda would never have to make money in that manner. He was happy, knowing that he could provide for her and even more so, knowing that he would be the first and only man to touch her.

The idea that his brother had impregnated a woman before marriage sickened him, let alone the fact that it had been a prostitute.

Claude arrived at La Falourdel's and immediately spied his brother on bended knee. He satyed out of sight to hear what was being said between the two.

"Marry me."

The girl laughed.

"You are kidding?"

"I am serious."

Jehan placed a ring on the girl's finger.

"I want to do the honorable thing and take care of you and our child."

The girl chuckled, then seeing the sincerity in his eyes she stopped.

"You're serious? But Jehan what do you know about doing the honorable thing? How do you expect to raise a child and take care of me when you yourself have nothing? Your only income is what little money your brother gives you."

"My brother has always lectured me about being more diligent in my studies and to provide a better work ethic. If it's for our child, then maybe I could try. I could learn a trade and we could live in a small house. Things won't be easy, but the least we can do is try."

It was the first time she had ever seen him sober. Here he was, a scared little boy, shaking, not knowing what he was doing.

"And who said this was your child?"

Jehan was speechless. He had known all along that she had other customers, that he was not the only man who frequented her, but for some reason these last words struck him to the core. With that she stood, took off the ring and left, walking right past Claude.

"How many times have I told you…"

Jehan recognized the voice and the attitude in which the words were said.

"And what right do you have to lecture me dear brother?"

"None I suppose."

Claude looked down and shuffled his feet.

"If you want to know whether or not I have told anyone, then no."

Jehan stood, brushing past his brother and storming out the door.

"I came here to make sure of that."

Claude withdrew a purse full of coins and jewels.

"I don't want anything more from you. I can't trust a man who lies and murders and then claims to be concerned about the souls of others."

"And you also can't start a family with no home and no money."

Claude jingled the purse, trying to entice his brother.

"I on the other hand have a house, right here in Paris. It is nothing much, however it would be impressive to the mother of your child."

Jehan stopped and turned around to face his brother. He was thinking about all of the previous times he had begged his older brother for money and how he felt that the lectures were unesseccary, and now a lecture about how to be a man and be honorable seemed needed.

"What do you want in return?"

Jehan asked sternly.

"Do everything you promised that young woman you would do and keep quiet about the gypsy girl and myself."

He tossed the purse into Jehan's hands.

"In that purse are two keys. One will open the door to the house, the other will open the door to the bed chamber."

With that Claude walked off.

It was nearing three o'clock and Claude was in a hurry to meet Gringoire. He would take the poet to Rheims so that he could instruct Esmeralda in reading and writing. He knew that the poet had no real romantic interest in the girl, so he could trust him to be alone with him. He had made his way back to their meeting place, where Gringoire was waiting.

"First, tell me why you have asked me to meet you here."

"You are coming with me to Rheims."

A puzzled look spread across gringoire's face.

"What's in Rheims?"

"A certain gypsy girl you know."

Gringoire understood what Claude meant.

"She needs a tutor and you need a real line of work."


	14. Tiny Dancer

Thank you, all who are still reading this fic and an even bigger thanks to all who have reviewed!

I do not own the song, "Tiny Dancer." Sir Elton John owns it. Hugo owns the characters.

I know, last chapter I said I'd break one large chapter down into three, but I decided to add a fourth to it...I'm thinking of adding another chapter before the wedding party as well...it'll be very Gringoire and Esme based.

Summary: Claude brings gringoire back to Rheims. Claude and Esme get caught in his bed room by Gudule. Preperations for the engagement party begin.

Preview: Esmeralda has some odd questions for Gringoire about her soon to be husband.

Next chapter might not be up until tomorrow, or Thursday...I have chores to do and calls to make.

* * *

As she sat, waiting for Claude to arrive home, Esmeralda began wondering what his surprise might be. It could be a new dress, perhaps a wedding dress. It could be flowers, or chocolates maybe. She fidgeted, while sitting on a pallet by the window, watching for her fiancé.

"He's here!"

She squealed, biting her lower lip in excitement. She ran to the door, swinging it open to greet him with a wide smile on her face. He had always dreamed of the moment when she would await his safe arrival from somewhere. She ran towards him, immediately throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"I need to show you something!"

She exclaimed, taking him by the hand and trying to lead him inside.

"Ah, but don't you want to see your surprise first?"

He chided playfully. She nodded affirmatively.

"Alright. Close your eyes."

He waved a hand over her eyes, making sure they were closed, before beckoning Gringoire over.

"Open your eyes."

The girl smiled, hugging Gringoire. She then saw that he held a rope and attached to that rope was her goat.

"Djali!"

She knelt down to pet the goat, who then lavished her with kisses.

"Master Gringoire will be taking over as your tutor."

Claude lent Esmeralda a hand, so that she could stand once more and lead the two men inside.

She was overwhelmed with happiness and had forgotten what she wanted to show Claude.

"I have another surprise for you, but it can wait until later."

She pouted, wanting the gift right then and there.

"I've been practicing."

She had led the two into the library and was holding up a piece of paper with flowery letters on it.

"Yes, you have been getting better my dear."

"Tell me Esmeralda, how many hours a day do you practice?"

Gringoire felt the need to chime in, as he was the one who would be tutoring her from now on.

"I practice for at least an hour everyday."

While she and gringoire spoke in the library, Claude snuck outside and retrieved a package. He snuck back inside and placed it on his fiancee's bed. She would see it just before going to sleep, she would dream about wearing, wearing it in front of him. He in his turn would dream about taking it off of her, letting it slip down to her feet, watching fine silk roll off her even finer skin.

"Have you learned to spell anything other that 'Claude?'"

"Yes. I have learned how to spell many words, but I like writing Claude's name."

She smiled and pointed to all of the papers with his name scratched on them, in her handwriting.

"I see. Tell me, do you still think about that captain of yours?"

Claude overheard where this conversation was going and rushed in to change the subject.

"Esmeralda, where is your mother?"

He looked around and had not seen her.

"She is at the market to day. She wanted to buy some new cloth to make the dress for our engagement party."

She understood that the party was more for her mother and her mother's friends, but the prospect of a new dress made her smile, while the prospect of being alone with Esmeralda made Claude smile.

"We shall recommence your lessons tomorrow."

Claude told her, hoping to spend some time with her.

"Gringoire, why don't you take the goat. Here is some money for a room at an inn."

Gringoire shrugged, looking at Djali. He did not mind spending some much needed time alone. He was tired from the trip, and it the time would give him time to work on putting together a lesson for Esmeralda. Seeing that he was no longer needed, he took Djali and left.

Not wanting Esmeralda to see the surprise he had left on her bed, Claude ushered her into his room.

"Are you sure your mother won't be back soon?"

He asked, closing the curtains.

"She left just before you arrived home."

She replied sweetly, kissing him once more on the lips.

Claude took full advantage of this moment and scooped her up in his arms to lay her down on his bed, not wanting to break the kiss. He began removing his cloak, climbing on the bed to join her. With her mother gone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her. He could finally show her how much he loved her, how much he needed her. And she in her turn would show him how much she wanted him. In a matter of moments she had managed to rip open his doublet and had begun exploring his chest.

"I don't want the engagement party."

She whispered, her arms around him.

"I just want to marry you. We do not need an announcement to do that."

He crawled on top of her, hoping she didn't deny him. He placed his hands on her hips, aligning his body with hers. He heard her moan his name in a sensual tone.

And then there was the sound of the door and Gudule's voice.

"I'm home and I have found the perfect fabric for your dress!"

She exclaimed, expecting her daughter to come running.

Claude looked at Esmeralda in fright. Not knowing what to do he rolled off the bed and decided to hide under it. Esmeralda looked around, not knowing what to do. She thought quickly, then decided to emerge from the room.

"What were you doing in his room?"

Esmeralda kept her gaze down.

"I was missing him, so I decided to rest on his bed."

It seemed like an odd reason, but Gudule seemed to buy it.

Claude was an intelligent man and would figure out some excuse for being under the bed. For now the two women had work to do in preparation for the party.

Why did the old woman always have to show up right when he and his fianceé were in the throws of passion? It seemed that all of Claude's hopes for that after noon had been spoiled. Ah well, there was still that evening, he could still sneak into the girl's room and…

A hand was on his collar.

"If you were resting, missing your fiancé, then tell me Agnes, what is he doing here under his bed?"

He felt himself being lifted and made to stand on his feet.

"He must have come home when I was outside. He must have wanted to surprise me."

Esmeralda started backing up, knowing that her mother could see through her lie.

"And what is the rule about you being in his room?"

"I'm not allowed, unless I have your permission."

She sighed, feeling the lack of freedom set in. With that, Gudule led Esmeralda into the library. The cloth had to be measured and fittend to her daughter. Claude decided that it was best to just keep out of the way. While Gudule cut and pinned the fabric, Esmeralda began talking.

"He found a new tutor for me."

Gudule was silent.

"He is the man I married in Paris."

With this Gudule looked up at her daughter with anger.

"It was not a religious ceremony, or anything of that sort. I married him to save his life."

Esmeralda felt the need to explain the law of bohemia to her mother, as the angry stare had not gone away.

"And you did nothing with him?"

Her mother asked, as Esmeralda finished explaining the circumstances in which she had "married" Gringoire.

"I talked to him, but that was all."

"And this man has never tried to have his way with you?"

Esmeralda shook her head.

"It's late, you are done for the day."

Gudule said, slipping the crude garment off her daughter.

Esmeralda rushed to Claude's bed chamber, hoping he would still be awake, but alas, he was not. It had been a taxing few days for him. He had travelled to Paris and back within three days time, so of course he would be tired. She crept up next to him, kissing his lips. She smiled, innocently at how he resembled a little boy when he slept.

She wandered to into her room and saw the package on her bed. She saw a small note attached.

_Wear this on our wedding day._

It was a note from Claude. She opened the package carefully and saw a lovely white gown. She almost cried, now knowing that the engagement had not been a dream, knowing that the marriage would take place. And she was happy for it.

That night, once Claude knew Gudule was asleep, he snuck into Esmeralda's bed chamber.

"I hope I did not wake you."

He whispered, climbing into bed next to her.

She turned to face him, placing her arms around him.

"Thank you."

She said, pressing herself as close to him as she could.

He had never given it any real thought, but had he known this girl when he was a young man, he would never have entered the clergy. She made him smile, she made him happy. And he had not been hapy in a very long time.


	15. Let's Talk About Sex

Thanks for the reviews!

The song is owned by Salt N' Peppa. The characters are owned by Hugo.

Okay...so I posted another chapter today, instead of tomorrow the way I had planned.

Summary: Esmeralda asks Gringoire some interesting questions about men. Claude tries to take Esmeralda by force.

The first part of this chapter between Esme and Gringoire is supposed to be somewhat humorous.

For obvious reasons I am now moving this story to the "M" section. Please note: Graphic/intense sexual scene ahead. I'd give it a 6.5/7 out of 10 as far as the graphicness goes.

Preview: Forgiveness. The engagement party.

As always, reviews/constructive criticism are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

Morning had come quickly, too quickly. Claude awoke with Esmeralda still holding him. She was awake, but was enjoying having him so close to her. Claude hoped that Gudule would not see him, as he snuck out of Esmeralda's bed chamber. Once in his own bed chamber, he pulled back the sheets of his bed and pretended to be asleep. He knew that in a few moments Esmeralda would be awake, as she was every morning at this time. He knew that she would burst in to wake him, as she did every morning. And Gudule would never suspect that he had spent the night in her daughter's bed.

Claude waited…

"Claude wake up!"

Esmeralda ran in, throwing the door open. She wanted him to eat breakfast with her, wanted him to spend the entire day with her. But she had her lesson and Gringoire would arrive soon and Claude had to go and teach his students.

"Agnes come away from that door!"

Gudule barked, walking down the hallway and grabbing her daughter's arm.

"Your new tutor will be here soon, you need to dress."

She gently shoved Esmeralda back into her own room. Esmeralda was happy that Gringoire would be tutoring her. She trusted him, she could talk to him. Just as women confused Claude, men confused Esmeralda. While lacing up her shoe, she heard a knock at the door. Falling over her bent knee, she rushed to answer it, being certain it was Gringoire.

"Come in."

She stated, out of breath and smiling.

He had her take a seat at the desk in the library and he pulled a chair over to sit next to her.

"Let's go over the alphabet today. I want you to say out loud each letter as you write it."

So she began. After this was done, and seeing that she had mastered the basics, he handed her a Bible. He had learned to read from the Bible, so he assumed she would be able to do the same.

About half way through their hour long lesson, she looked up at him with a curious glance.

"Gringoire, tell me everything there is to know about men."

Gringoire looked befuddled, not knowing had had spurred this odd demand.

"Claude and I are to be married soon and I want to know how I should be on our wedding night."

Gringoire fumbled with his Bible for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing.

She had never seen her friend so nervous before and it made her giggle.

"What do you mean by that?"

He asked.

"I want to know what to expect on my wedding night. I want to know what I should do."

"Well…I…That is to say…"

Gringoire's voice cracked and squeaked with nervousness, making Esmeralda giggle even more.

"On your wedding night he is going to expect that you consummate the marriage."

Esmeralda nodded and he hoped that he had answered her question.

"Yes, but what does that mean exactly?"

Again, Gringoire's face went red.

"It means that he is going to expect you to make love to him, to have sex with him."

He was hoping that this cleared everything up for her and that they could go back to the lesson.

"What is sex like? How do people have it?"

It was obvious that she was more naïve than he had first thought.

"People say its fun. I wouldn't know."

"Yes, but how does it happen?"

She wanted to know the mechanics of the act.

Gringoire sighed, exaserbated by her questions.

"The man and woman normally undress one another, then the man lays the woman down and if he chooses to be on top, then he inserts himself into the woman."

Gringoire was growing even more flustered, having to explain sex to her. She had been like a younger sister to him.

"Yes, but which part does the man insert? And where does he insert it?"

She knew nothing about the anatomy of a man.

"The man inserts his penis into the woman's vagina."

Gringoire looked around for some type of medical or scientific book to aid him in his explanation. He found books with pretty drawings of nude women and men. Those would have to suffice.

Opening to a picture he pointed to the man's lower body.

"That is a penis."

Then to a woman's lower body.

"That is a vagina."

"Oh."

She blushed, thinking about her wedding night.

"Does it hurt?"

Gringoire blushed once more. He did not have a reference point, so he really couldn't answer.

"Some women, during their first time have said it hurts a little."

He saw worry in her eyes.

"Does the man always fit?"

Her line of thought was that if it hurt, then the man might not be doing things right.

"I don't know."

"How big is a man's penis?"

Gringoire blushed again, not knowing what to say.

"Some men are bigger than others. They vary in size."

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and not really wanting to continue this conversation.

"What if Claude doesn't fit, what if he's too big? What should I do then?"

This wasn't what he wanted to hear out of her mouth. He wanted her to go back to reading.

"I don't know."

He didn't want the imagery of Claude and Esmeralda going at it in his head.

"Does the man always have to be on top?"

She was concerned that the man's weight might be too much for her.

"No. There are other positions…the man being on top is just the most common."

She wanted him to explain more, but heard the door open and saw her mother walk in.

"How is the lesson going today?"

Gudule hardly noticed the look of embarrassment on the young man's face.

"She's doing really well. Her alphabet is near perfect and she can pick up the context of what she reads quickly…"

Gudule looked down at the desk and saw the book of artwork.

"What were you doing with this?"

She questioned sternly.

"I wanted to know what a man looked like."

Esmeralda replied, defending her friend. Gudule nodded and rolled her eyes.

"You will know soon enough."

Gudule stated, placing the book back in its rightful place.

Gringoire felt that now was the most opportune time to leave. He would return the next evening for the engagement party. He hoped that if Esmeralda had anymore questions about the male body or sex in general, she would ask her fiancé.

Esmeralda hoped that Claude would come home early that day, so that she could ask him some of the questions Gringoire was unable to answer. The day had been too long and Gudule had to leave for a short while once again for things needed for the engagement party. Esmeralda hated being alone in the house, it was too dull.

Claude had noticed Gudule heading toward the market, and decided to wrap up the day's lessons. It was already two in the afternoon.

"Esmeralda."

Claude entered the house to see his fiancée looking at a book filled with pictures. On closer inspection he cringed, seeing the nude pictures.

"What are you doing?"

His voice was strict and almost mean.

"How big is yours?"

At first Claude didn't understand what she was asking.

"Gringoire said that the size of a man's penis varies."

Claude cleared his throat, trying to buy some time before answering.

"I don't know. Is that what he plans on teaching you?"

"No. I asked him. I wanted to know, because of our wedding night."

She gave him a look of concern, hoping he would understand.

"Then he should not have answered. I am not paying him to speculate about what will and will not happen on our wedding night. If you wanted to know, then you should have come to me and asked."

He would have been more than willing to give her that lesson.

"I could teach you a little now, if you are willing to learn."

He said, a sly smile spreading across his thin lips.

He placed one hand on the small of her back, hoping to convince her into letting him show her his body.

"We could go into your room and I could let you be the judge of my size."

He was imagining fitting himself into her, hearing her call out his name, seeing the tiny bit of pain in her eyes.

She was giving him a frightened look.

"No."

She replied meekly.

In a short time, he had wrapped his arms possessively around her waist and was leaning into her for a kiss.

She was struggling to turn her head away, not wanting him to kiss her. She felt him pressing against her, his manhood pushing against her thighs. He dragged her into his room. His hands were on her chest, cupping her breasts, rubbing them.

She batted his hands away, calling out for her mother.

Claude's hands moved quickly to untie his hoisiers, releasing his extremity.

He heard her gasp and saw her turn away from the sight, placing a hand over her eyes.

"No. I want you to see."

He grabbed her hand, causing her to yelp.

"Oh Esmeralda! This is your doing."

He placed her hand on his manhood, begging her to grip it.

She curled her other hand into a fist, ready to strike him. He anticipated the strike and caught her other hand in mid-air.

"Do as I say and it will be less painful."

He hissed, unable to control the level of appetence in his voice.

"Let me go!"

She tried to break free from his grasp.

"You were the one who wanted to know about my size."

He climbed on top of her, ready to mount her for the first time.

He had hiked her skirt up to her hips, ready to enter.

She looked up at him, pure hatred in her eyes, bending her knee and kicking him in the groin.

"Damn you little slut!"

He shot back, grabbing her hair and pulling her down to the floor.

He did not hear the door open, but Esmeralda had.

"Mother!"

She shouted, hearing footsteps hurry to the room.

Gudule pulled Claude off of her daughter, slapping him.

"How dare you place your hands on her!"

Claude had no explanation this time. This time Esmeralda would not come to his defense with some obvious lie. He felt the old woman gripping his arm, her nails digging in, blood starting to approach the surface. She was leading him out the door. Horrified Esmeralda felt the need to react. She may not have liked her fiancé when he became like that, but she needed him.

"Wait."

Claude looked at her with surprise.

"He and I were trying to make love, when he became too rough."

She bit her bottom lip, looking down, not wanting to look Claude in the eye.

"Mother, I am at fault as well."

Gudule released Claude, giving him a look that told him Agnes was far too good for him.

"If I find your hands on my daughter again, before you are wed, I will call off the marriage."

Gudule gave Claude a knowing look, one that told him he should feel lucky that her daughter had once again come to his rescue.

With that, Esmeralda ran back to her room in tears. Claude was left standing alone in the entryway. He owed Esmeralda his life and he knew it.

Everything had felt better when she was compliant. It had felt dirty and wrong when she was struggling against him. But, there was still a small part of him that wanted her vulnerable, that wanted to hear her beg him for mercy.


	16. Johanna

Once again, thank you all so much for the reviews!

I don't own Sweeny Todd, or any of the songs in the musical...although, I would like to own Johnny Depp.*Stares of into space, and drools as she thinks about Johnny.* Oh right, I was talking about my fic. I don't own any of the characters...Hugo does.

This chapter is like a 0 in graphicness...sorry, no juicy stuff this time.

Summary: Esmeralda talks to Claude. Jehan keeps trying to convince Isabeau that he's changed. Engagement party.

Preview: Claude goes to comfort Esme. She persuades him to stay with her, rather than return to the party.

* * *

Claude had spent the evening alone in his room. He had lain awake all night, thinking about what he had done to Esmeralda. He remembered the look of absolute hatred in her eyes, he remembered the pure fear and utter loathing in those big, dark brown eyes, which had told him that if he wanted her to let him have her willingly, he should not be trying to force himself on her. He knew that no amount of words or gifts could make up for what he had done. He was thankful that the engagement party was being held the next evening. He could leave the house early, dress for the party and shuffle around her, not saying much or getting to near her at the party. It was still dark out when he rose, he did not expect for anyone else to be awake and then he saw her, sitting in the parlor. She looked as though she was contemplating the moon and the stars, how they seemed to disappear as the sun rose. He too had done this several times, so he recognized the steady and thoughtful gaze.

He didn't want to disturb her, she looked at peace.

"Esmeralda, what are you doing awake at this hour?"

The sound of his voice broke her concentration. She didn't really want to forgive him.

"I…I am truly sorry. I know that what I did was utterly inexcusable. I hurt you the worst way I could ever imagine possible and I don't even expect your forgiveness. If you tell me to leave I will. I'll go back to Paris and you can marry a better man."

He turned to leave for the day, but saw her stand out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, you hurt me. When you become like that I don't know how I can trust you. I fear that you will hurt me."

He listened to her, as though these were the words of God.

"I'm still angry with you and I am not going to forgive you. Sometimes you are a terrible man, other times you are sweet and loving and I want to love you. I do not want you to go back to Paris, nor do I want to marry anyone else. I just want to be able to trust that you will not harm me."

With that she kissed his cheek and went back to her room. He was left dazed by her forgiving nature and her gentility. He decided that it could be in his best interest to try and talk this matter out with her. He gently knocked on her door.

"Come in."

She and he were the only two people awake, she knew it was him at her door.

"Thank you."

He began the conversation as he watched her get back in bed.

"It is almost daylight, why don't you just sleep here?"

She lifted the covers, inviting him in.

"No. I think I should sleep in my bed until we are married."

He was glad that she was still willing to try. He left her room and entered his own. Claude could now sleep a little easier, knowing that she still loved him. Morning came fast, Esmeralda was too busy getting ready for the party to burst into Claude's room and wake him up. He hoped that there would be no more talk of his size, or anything that had to do with what might happen on his wedding night bandied between his fiancée and former pupil.

* * *

No matter what Isabeau thought of him, Jehan was trying. He had a house, he had money, he ever found a job working in Jacques Charmolue's office taking things down…witnesses, evidence, facts…etc. Isabeau, however, thought this was all an act. To her, he was the same old Jehan. She could see him back at La Val D'Amour within a month. He insisted that he wanted to be a part of his child's life, even if Isabeau herself did not love him. But that was just the problem, she did. And he knew she did, which was why he pursued her so vehemently.

"I have a house, a job and money. What more do you want from me?"

He asked. He had never had to take anything seriously before and she knew it.

"There are hundreds of men who claim that they are good men, but I see them every night walking through that door."

He had gone to La Val D'Amour to try and convince her that he had changed. He had even paid her in advance.

"Yes, but if you come live with me then you won't have to work here."

There were things he did not know about her. She was the most guarded individual he had ever met, but had had always assumed that it was because she was a whore.

"You'll let me live with you until you grow tired of me. Then you'll toss me out and I'll be right back here. I'd rather not let myself grow accustomed to something I know I should have in the first place."

He saw regret and hurt in her eyes.

"Listen, please give me a chance! How do you know that this is where it will all end?"

He had gotten down on his knees, trying to plead with her.

"Because, it's happened before."

She replied, walking away. She had been with a man who once promised her everything Jehan was promising her now. He had let her live with him, had promised that they would marry, that she would be a princess. And then one day she found the man sitting on their bed with another, younger girl. The man had noticed her and threw her out.

"No. This is my child and I want to do what's right for our child."

A line that most men used, but few delivered.

"Go home Jehan."

Her reply was short and curt. She was beginning to feel tears well up in her eyes.

* * *

Evening had finally come. Claude was in his black and white doublet, a decorative sword at his side. Esmeralda wore a lovely green dress, trimmed with silver.

As they walked out into the parlor she felt the need to tell him something.

"Claude," she whispered his name, squeezing his hand.

"I forgive you."

She saw faces she recognize; Madame Aloise and Fleur-De-Lys and there, amongst the upper crust of her mother's friends stood Phoebus.

Claude scowled, realizing why she had forgiven him. He then looked down and saw the intense abhorrence in his fiancee's eyes.

"If at anytime you want to leave the party, just tell me and I will lead you away from it."

He squeezed her hand back, reassuring her that he would not let the captain come near her.

With that, they took a step into the parlor and everyone cheered.

Everyone around her wanted to know more about her, but Esmeralda couldn't say much about her past. For all the guests knew, she was a young aristocrat from Lyon who had found her mother while visiting Paris. As things became too crowded and too much for her, she stepped outside for some air. A man was at her heels, joining her outside.

"I see you do not enjoy these gatherings either. I see them as outdated and useless myself."

It was the captain. She looked up at him, speechless.

"And here I thought all women liked these ridiculous parties. Where is the need to announce that you are in love anyways?"

Esmeralda's eyes grew cross. She did not like him talking to her.

"I think it is romantic, letting the world know that you are in love."

She crossed her arms, hoping that he would take the hint and go back inside.

"Oh, forgive me young lady. I forgot to introduce myself to you."

He bowed.

"Captain Phoebus D'Chateaupers of Paris."

He tried to kiss her hand and seem gallant, but she did not trust his intensions.

"E…Agnes Chantefleurie of Lyon."

She had been tempted to tell him who she really was, but decided not to make a scene at her own party. She politely curtseyed.

"Now if you will excuse me, my fiancé is waiting inside for me."

She replied. As she went inside she looked around for Claude.

"I don't want to be here. I will be in my room for the rest of the evening. Join me if you wish."

He noticed her agitation and the near sobs in her lovely voice. He saw the captain re-enter the party, a smile upon his face.

Claude gritted his teeth, knowing that he had said something to upset her.

"Claude, where is my daughter?"

Gudule was distracting him from watching where the captain was headed.

"She told me she had a headache and went to her room to sit down a moment."

Claude looked around the room, scanning for the captain.

In a darkened be chamber Esmeralda slipped her dress off. It was too binding and it made her feel like the air was being pressed out of her. She heard the door open and then close. She turned, placing her arms around the individual, kissing his lips madly.

"Oh Claude, never did I truly realize how much I love you!"

"That is a lovely thought, but I am not Claude."

Esmeralda slapped the man.

"Who are you and what right do you have, barging into my room?"

"Dear child, it is I, Phoebus! You need not worry, no one knows that I am in here."

She reached up to slap him, reveling in the sound her hand made when it came in contact with his face,

"I don't want you. Besides, you have a fiancée of your own."

Esmeralda pointed to the door as she watched him rub his cheek. He had not expected her to react in that manner.

After he had exited the room and rejoined the party, Claude watched his every move. Claude took note of where he had re-entered from and did not like what he saw.


	17. said I Loved YouBut I Lied

Thank you all for the reviews!

Summary: Claude goes to Esmeralda's bed chamber to make sure she was alright. He wants to return to the party to confron the captain, but Esmeralda convinces him to stay with her.

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic content of a sexual nature. If you are offended by sexual content, then please skim down the the line...and the sentence that begins, "Phoebus had returned to the party..." Please do not leave reviews telling me that you are offended and that the sexual content disgusts you. I'm telling you what the chapter contains now, so that you will make the decision for yourself whether or not you want to read this part. Don't blame me if you are easily offended by sexual content and read this chapter anyways. The graphicness of this chapter is a 9.5/10.

Preview: Jehan somehow convinces Isabeau that he loves her. Fleur-De-Lys tries becomming Agnes' new best friend. Phoebus makes another appearance.

* * *

Claude sneered and strode angrily to Esmeralda's door. He did not bother to knock. He opened the door and saw her, sitting on her bed crying.

"Are you alright?"

Every horrible thought he had melted away at the sight of this lovely girl in tears.

"He tried to…"

Claude nodded, taking her into his arms. She clung to him, as though he was her only cause for living.

"I am here now."

He whispered, stroking her hair. Until now it had not crossed his mind that she was completely nude.

"What happened to your dress?"

Claude was hoping that Phoebus hadn't taken it off of her.

"I came in here and took it off. It was hurting me."

She grew calmer in his arms and was now able to explain what had happened.

"He came in and I thought he was you. And then he told me that he was not and I told him to leave."

Claude nodded, relieved to hear this news.

"I was hoping you would follow me into my room."

He leaned in, kissing her lips.

"I have to return to our party. Your mother will wonder where I am."

He wanted to return to the party and call Phoebus out. He wanted everyone know that the captain had tried to have his way with Esmeralda. But it seemed that whatever he was planning would have to wait.

"Stay with me."

She crawled into his lap, straddling him.

"I don't want to try anymore."

He knew that she was referring to her love for him.

"I've made up my mind and I love you."

She lay back on the bed, allowing him full access to her body. It was as though Christmas had come early; her love and her body all in one night!

"Promise me that it won't hurt too much and that you love me."

Her hands were on his belt, fumbling with the clasp.

"I have always loved you."

He gathered her in his arms, grazing her neck with his tongue.

He heard the belt fall to the ground and felt her tiny fingers working at the laces of his hoisiers.

He felt her hand brush against his cock a few times, hoping that the stiffness wouldn't deter her from letting him bed her. He had begun removing his doublet, letting her hands roam over his skin.

"Oh Esmeralda!"

He felt a dampness between her legs. He moved his hand in between those graceful limbs, spreading them in anticipation of joining her. He looked into her eyes, making sure that this was what she wanted. He saw no trace of rejection in them and began fingering her.

"Oh! Oh Claude!"

She wailed in delight. He was surprised that no one had heard the loud cry and almost hoped that someone had. He wanted someone rush in and catch them in the act. He wouldn't stop though. No, this time he would have her, even if her mother were to burst in and try to spoil the evening.

Her panting had escalated into moans of excitement and he knew that now would be his best chance at entering her with minimal discomfort.

"Are you ready?"

He halted fingering her and removed his hoisiers.

He saw the doubt in her eyes, as she looked down at his erection.

"Yes."

Her voice was sweet and tentative.

He knew that he could not be too rough with her, as he did not want to cause her too much pain.

He lay her back down, her head on a small pile of pillows, her arms around his neck, her mouth fighting his for dominance.

"You will know how I love you."

He whispered, at last placing the tip of his manhood against her opening.

"Claude…"

She moaned, hoping that he would fit.

The sound of her saying his name with such need, made him want to be gentle with her. He glided himself into her, feeling her warmth encase him.

"OH!"

He whimpered, pushing into her slowly. He felt her nails drag down his back as he penetrated her.

"Oh Claude! Oh, Oh God!"

She panted, huskily.

He moved in and out of her slowly, wanting her to feel every inch of him. But the issue of his size and of him fitting into her was becoming more apparent as his thrusts became longer and deeper. He spread her legs a part a little more, hoping this would alleviate the issue.

Her hips moved, bucking to meet his. She was urging him on, wanting him to go as far in as he could.

"Oh I love you!"

He rolled over, it was her turn to be on top, giving her a chance to show him how rough or tender he should be with her.

For a brief moment she was unsure of what to do, but instinct kicked in and she began to ride him.

She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in response to watching her breasts jiggle. Leaning forward, he kissed and sucked her nipples, rubbing them and heard her moan his name over and over again.

He sat up, placing a hand on the back of her head, deepening the kiss. She felt him pushing himself to the hilt.

"Oh Claude! OH!"

Her voice was muffled by his hot kisses, but he obliged, hoping it would not cause her pain.

He felt her constricting him, felt her inner walls closing in and he could feel a tightening in his pelvis.

"OH GOD ESMERALDA!"

He shouted her name as he ejaculated inside of her.

He lie back down, next to her, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. Looking down at her he smiled, knowing that Phoebus would never have her, knowing that no other man could ever have what he had.

Morning would come soon and Gudule would find them in bed together. But for now the pair was too happy to worry about something so trivial.

* * *

Phoebus had returned to the party, his fiancée asking him where he had been.

"Our hostess was feeling ill and I wanted to make certain she was alright."

Fleur-De-Lys looked up at his reddened cheek.

"And what about that mark on your face?"

Phoebus' expression went from calm to embarrassed. A woman had turned him down, no woman had ever turned him down before. He did not like the feeling, though he knew with a little effort she would easily be his.

"I accidentally walked in on her while she was undressing. She overreacted."

He sneered, remembering the lovely sight and how it had been denied.

"Why did you not tell her fiancé?"

Phoebus had not thought ahead that far into the lie.

"He…he was talking with the girl's mother. I intended to tell him when he was finished, but he rushed past me before I got the chance."

Perhaps the only part on his story that had held a small amount of truth.

"Tell me Phoebus, did that girl appear at all familiar to you?"


	18. I Don't Know How To Love Him

hey all, thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry about the delay of this chapter, but I just got a new job and I'm working nights. So the updating is going to be a bit off for a while...I'll try to update once a week.

Summary: Claude and Esmeralda discuss the events of the previous evening. Claude gets caught by Gudule. Phoebus asks Jehan for some advice. Jehan comes up with a solution to his own problem.

Preview: Fleur and Esme heavy chapter. Phoebus comes up with a solution to his own problem. Claude goes back to Paris.

* * *

Morning had come early for the two love birds. As Claude awoke he felt his fiancee's leg stretched across his thighs and her arm across his chest and her hear, resting on his chest. He smiled inwardly, thinking about the night's events and it seemed unreal to him that she was still beside him, that she loved him. He ran a hand through her soft curls, enjoying the sight of her snuggled up against him. He wanted it to be this way every morning for the rest of their lives. He wondered how Esmeralda would react this morning and then the reality of the situation set in. Gudule would come bursting in and find them in bed together. She would no doubt throw him out onto the street. He had to dress and go to his own bed chamber, but if he were to move now, he would wake his sweet fiancée. He was enjoying this moment too much to ever want to let it go. He scanned the room for his clothing. He could see his doublet and belt, but where had his hoisiers gone? Esmeralda must have felt his movements, for, she woke up.

"Claude?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Yes Esmeralda?"

"What are you doing?"

He snorted, about to laugh.

"I'm looking for my hoisiers."

There was a time when he had never thought he would be in this situation, yet it struck him as humorous.

"It's morning?"

She asked in a panicked voice.

"Yes."

Then he realized that he had not taken her feelings about the previous night's events into consideration.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Yes, I am alright. And it did hurt a little, I feel sore."

He kissed her head. He didn't know what to say, he didn't even know if the sore feeling was normal. He blushed. Part of him wanted to ask her about his size, he wanted her to think him larger than average, whatever average was.

Esmeralda sat up, sliding her leg back over to her side of the bed.

Claude frowned. He had been enjoying the placement of her leg.

"I'll help you find your hoisiers."

She said, kissing his cheek as she stood up. Claude could now see the dried blood on her inner thighs.

"Oh Esmeralda!"

She truly had been a virgin.

He grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her back onto the bed with him.

"You need rest. I can find my hoisiers."

He noticed the little bit of blood, smeared on his manhood. He would have to use the washroom, as did she.

"Dress in your night chemise and wash up. Once I find my hoisiers, I will do the same.

She nodded, walking over to the chest of drawers and pulling out her night chemise and put it on.

She exited the room, making sure her mother was not awake yet.

She was still thinking about the events of the previous night. It had felt good. He had been so loving with her and made her comfortable. She especially enjoyed being on top and taking control of him.

Done cleaning herself, she returned to her bed chamber. Claude was donning his hoisiers and was tying his doublet. She wasn't sure how to tell him she had enjoyed him and that he made her feel wonderful.

"Claude," she regarded him with large brown eyes. He looked at her, waiting for her to finish, but she stared blankly at him.

"Esmeralda, what we did last night…I…You…We…"

He stuttered, trying to find the right words to say. Then he felt her soft body close to his and her arms around him, as if telling him she understood.

"There are many things in life I regret, but making love to you last night will never be one of those regrets."

He held her, not wanting to let her go again.

"Claude, I enjoyed making love to you. You were good at it."

He suddenly felt that staying in her bed chamber any longer would be detrimental to his staying engaged to him. He released her, exiting the room.

Gudule stood, facing him, fully dressed and scowling.

Had she heard them? Did she know?

His breathing came in shallow sips.

"You left the party quite early last night sir."

"I wanted to be sure Agnes was alright. She said she was feeling ill."

It was a partial truth.

"And what prevented you from rejoining the party?"

He thought for a moment, trying to think up a plausible lie.

"I fell asleep in the chair."

She glared at him with narrow eyes.

"You are lying."

She said assuredly.

"I heard sounds coming from her room last night. The voice was a masculine one. I also heard her calling out your name several times. If there is anything you wish to say to me, I suggest you tell me now."

Claude gulped back all of his fear of this woman.

"She and I…"

"You took her didn't you?"

She interrupted, knowing what he had been about to say.

Claude nodded, fearing his voice would fail him.

Gudule walked away, leaving Claude to try and decipher what that had meant.

Claude walked on, into the washroom. He looked down at the blood stains, regarding them as a badge of honor. He had deflowered the most beautiful blossom in any garden and she had enjoyed it! He definitely did not feel any remorse for what he had done. Once finished, he returned to his room to change. He would not work today. He would spend the day with his Esmeralda.

* * *

Jehan was fed up with Isabeau not believing him when he said he had changed and that he wanted to marry her and start a family with her. He couldn't think of anything to do on that Sunday, other than go to church. His brother had been lecturing him for years to do so more often, however he had never seen the reasoning in going. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen, someone who had to listen. God seemed like the perfect candidate.

Inside Notre-Dame he knelt down to pray. The notion that God could not help you, unless you were kneeling before him seemed ridiculous to Jehan, however he did not wish to stand out in the crowd today.

"Oh Heavenly Father, I am at a point in my life where I do not know what I should do. My sinful ways have caught up with me and I have found out that a woman I am not married to is carrying my child. I want to give her and the child a good life, I want to marry this woman, but she does not seem to want to marry me. What should I do?"

He asked, almost expecting God to give him a clear answer.

"I do not know whether or not I love this woman. The topic of love has never come up between us. I just want to do the right thing and I don't know what that would be."

Jehan felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. He turned to see who the hand belonged to, expecting a priest.

"Jehan my friend!"

Exclaimed Phoebus.

"I wasn't sure you even knew what a church was for."

He laughed at the sight of his friend kneeling before God and asking for advice.

"Phoebus, how was the engagement party the other night?"

Jehan stood, facing his companion.

"It was the same as any other party."

He felt mildly embarrassed at the fact that he could not woo the bride to be.

"I have a question for you Jehan. One better suited for La Pomme D'Eve."

Jehan was unsure of whether or not he should go. But he could go and not drink.

"Then I shall meet you there within the hour."

With that Phoebus walked away.

Once Jehan arrived, he took a seat at the table with Phoebus.

"Well, what is you question my friend?"

Jehan wasn't sure if he could help him, given his own current situation.

"There was a girl I could not attract."

Jehan snickered.

"This is serious!"

Phoebus bellowed.

"I'm sorry, go on."

"She was the most lovely in the bunch. She was the man's fiancée. I followed her outside for some air and to talk with her."

"The man's fiancée?"

"She is not married yet. I continued following her around the room, and watching her. She went down a hallway, into her bed chamber. I followed her and saw the most amazing sight! Her body, fully undressed. She advanced toward me, hoping I was her betrothed. When I told her I was not, she slapped me and demanded that I leave the room."

Jehan rolled his eyes. There were bigger problems in the world, than being rejected by a woman who was obviously in love with another man.

"And what is the problem exactly?"

"She rejected me! I find that the rejection is unacceptable and I feel I want her more for that."

"If she loves her fiancé as you say, then there is no reason to pursue her. Let well enough alone and be happy with Fleur-De-Lys."

Jehan did not want to hear anymore. He stood and left. He now knew what he needed to do to prove his love to Isabeau.

He found himself storming toward La Val D'Amour.

"Where is Isabeau?"

His stern demeanor frightened the whore he was speaking to.

"Upstairs. She is with a customer."

She shouted up to him, as he had already begun climbing the stairs.

He knew her normal room. Turning the handle he entered, growling.

"Get off of my fiancée!"

He shouted at the man on top of her.

He grabbed the man by the back of his neck and threw him against a wall.

"Jehan!"

He disregarded her protests and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her out of the room, down the stairs and out of the brothel, leaving her customer and everyone else dumbfounded.

He carried her to his house, opening the door, entering and going into the bed chamber. He tossed her down on the bed.

"You are going to be my fiancée, you are going to marry me and I am going to be the father of that child. Is that understood?"

She nodded, happy he finally took the initiative.


	19. The Bitch Is Back

Thanks for the reviews!!!

Nope, don't own the song...Sir Elton John does.

Don't own the characters...Hugo does.

Summary: Claude goes to Paris. Fleur arrives in Rheims to visit Agnes. Claude and Jehan run into Phoebus.

Preview: Gudule has a sincere talk with her daughter. Claude returns to Rhiems. Fleur returns to Paris. Phoebus arrives in Rheims.

You think this time Claude might confront the captain?

* * *

It had been a week and Claude had been wise in avoiding Gudule. When he passed her in the hallway, he would avert his gaze, she would eat meals before he and Esmeralda, so that she din't have to confront him. Claude had been sleeping in Esmeralda's bed chamber. He enjoyed her closeness, he enjoyed waking up with her arms around him and her lovely brown eyes looking into his. She in her turn enjoyed his warmth, the fact that someone would always be there and that she was no longer alone.

Esmeralda's reading and writing lessons had been going quite well and both Claude and Gudule were very proud of her. Gringoire would often bring Djali over, so that Esmeralda would have a companion during the day, while Claude was away. Everything seemed well, except for the fact that Esmeralda was receiving gifts from an admirer. A man would come with flowers, chocolates, or even letters; the young man would not say who the gifts were from and Esmeralda did not see it necessary to keep the items. She would feed Djali the flowers, give her mother the chocolates and use the letters in the fireplace. Claude was not jealous of this man, as he knew that Esmeralda loved him. He would watch her burn the unopened letters and was never curious to read them. He trusted her, however he did not trust this admirer.

In the meantime Gudule had received a letter from Madame Aloise stating that Fleur-De-Lys wanted to become friends with Agnes and that Fleur-De-Lys would be staying with them for a few days. Esmeralda had protested this, she even feared what might happen if Fleur-De-Lys figured out her secret. Though Claude had reassured her that he would not let anything bad happen, she was still apprehensive. Esmeralda thought her fiancé lucky, he had gotten a letter from his brother.

"So, your brother is marrying this girl, because she is pregnant? How is he so sure that the child is his?"

It was late afternoon and they were lying on the couch together.

"Yes. He says he doesn't know and he doesn't care. He just knows that he loves her and wants to do the right thing."

"Why do you need to go back to Paris? I want you to stay here, with me. My mother's friend's daughter will be visiting. What if she brings…"

She did not want to say his name, it tasted bitter in her mouth. She hated the sight of him and was glad that she did not have to see him everyday. And she did not want to make Claude angry by saying his name.

"I think he has been the one sending the gifts."

She declared gravely.

"Is that why you have not accepted any of the gifts?"

Claude asked.

"I don't keep his gifts, because they are not from you."

She replied, kissing his lips tenderly.

"And what if he sends them, while she is here? She is after all, his fiancée."

Claude saw the worry in her eyes. He touched her cheek, reassuring her that he would be home as soon as he had helped his brother. Claude would be going to Paris, he could confront the captain. He would tell the captain that Esmeralda was his fiancée and to leave her alone. Claude would willingly kill the man in broad daylight if he had to. He did not want him even attempting to woo Esmeralda away.

The next morning Claude left, kissing Esmeralda goodbye. He promised he would return to her in a week. That same afternoon Fleur-De-Lys arrived. Gudule had led her into the parlor, where she and Agnes could talk.

* * *

There was a long pause. Esmeralda did not know what to say, and did not wish to be the first to speak.

"My mother tells me that you can read and write!"

Fleur-De-Lys leaned in, asking in an excited whisper.

"Can't you?"

Esmeralda found it strange that this girl was so animated about the subject. She thought that all nobility knew how to read and write.

"No. My mother says that only men should be able to read an write and that women have no need to learn."

"I wanted to learn, because I wanted to impress Claude."

Esmeralda stated flatly.

"So he is alright with you learning?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't he be?"

Esmeralda found the fact that Fleur-De-Lys was not allowed to learn how to read or write strange.

"I don't know. My mother has just always told me that all women needed to know was how to cook, clean and sew and that the men would do all the rest."

"My mother told me that as long as we are able to pay a tutor, I can take lessons. It is something I enjoy. I do not write much though, just my feelings and letters to Claude. I enjoy reading though. My favorite book is The Oddessy."

Fleur-De-Lys looked at Esmeralda, as though she had three heads.

"Personally, I enjoy needle point. I have been working on Neptune's Grotto."

Esmeralda had tried needle point and hated it. It had been too dull and too easy.

"Agnes, are you sure we have not met before? I feel as though I know you from somewhere."

Fleur-De-Lys was studying her face and mannerisms.

"I…I do not believe so."

Esmeralda felt flustered. She could feel the weight of her dress, crushing her chest.

"You seem flush. Is there something wrong?"

"No. I must be a little tired, that's all."

Fleur-De-Lys regarded Agnes with a growing curiosity. Her black hair, her dark brown almost black eyes, her height, her grace were all present. She was the same physically, as the little gypsy demon who had led Phoebus astray. But, this could not be the same girl, she was a witch who had disappeared from prison.

"Where is your fiancé today? I thought he would be joining us."

"He went to Paris."

Esmeralda felt a lump in her throat and gulped, trying not to show her nervousness.

"He is visiting his brother. And how is your fiancé, the captain?"

She hated asking about Phoebus.

"He has been acting strangely the past week. I have noticed him giving money to a boy to deliver things. He has given the boy letters mainly."

This confirmed Esmeralda's thoughts that her admirer was Phoebus. She felt herself growing faint. She closed her eyes tightly, then reopened them in hopes that it was only passing.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?"

Esmeralda stood. She felt her legs weaken and her head felt light. As she fell, she placed a hand on Fleur-De-Lys' leg to steady her, but it slipped. She felt her head crash against the floor.

"Madame Chantefleurie!"

Fleur-De-Lys cried out, begging Gudule to come quickly.

Gudule entered the parlor, a look of shock and dread on her face. She knelt down, shaking her daughter's shoulder lightly and calling her name. But, Esmeralda remained unresponsive.

Gudule had sent Fleur-De-Lys to fetch the physician. The man had arrived quickly, took Agnes in his arms and carried her to her bed. He was able to examine her.

"There is nothing to worry too much about. She has a slight fever, which could have been brought on by any number of things; something she ate, the dresses she wears may be constricting her too tightly, a common ailment. Either way, she should be fine within a day or two. Let her rest."

Gudule nodded. She hated the idea that Fleur-De-Lys would now have to entertain herself. She hated the idea of having to write to her daughter's fiancé and tell him he should return home even more.

* * *

Phoebus had in fact been the one sending the gifts to Esmeralda. But it seemed that the gifts were not enough. He knew that Fleur-De-Lys had gone to visit Gudule and Agnes. His fiancée would surely be glad that he had decided to surprise her and if he could woo Agnes at the same time, then that would be a marvelous visit! He was exiting the city, when he spotted Claude walking with Jehan. He decided to stop and speak to his companion about his lady problem.

"jehan."

Phoebus approached the pair.

"Captain Phoebus."

Claude grimaced. He hated seeing the captain.

"jehan, how did things turn out with your lady friend?"

"She has agreed to marry me."

Jehan felt that he had outgrown his friend. Phoebus was a fine companion when it came to drinking or La Val D'Amour. But he wasn't the type of companion Jehan could now see himself with. Phoebus still carried on with a different woman every night, he still drank and Jehan questioned the reason why. Phoebus had a lovely bride to be, what did he have to complain about in life?

"It seems that every man has been having that problem lately."

The captain replied, in jest.

"Tell me Phoebus, you were trying to woo a girl weren't you? How goes it with her?"

Jehan asked, knowing who the girl was and knowing that the girl's fiancé was standing right there.

"I have tried everything!"

Phoebus whined, expecting some sympathy from his friend.

"I have sent her flowers, chocolates, even letter professing my love to her. She seems uninterested. I have not heard back from her, so I am going to her myself."

Claude felt his hand curl into a fist. He wanted to deck him. He was talking about Esmeralda, as though she were some unimportant harlot.

"I'll bet you that before this week is out I will have bedded her."

Claude grit his teeth, fighting back the words he wanted to say.

"I doubt she will let you sir. She seems very much in love with her betrothed."

Jehan kindly defended his brother.

"Well, gentlemen I must be off."

With that the captain gave a slight bow and left.

"Brother, he is speaking about your fiancée!"

Jehan felt himself becoming angry.

"Yes, there will be time to confront him Jehan."


	20. Confrontation

Thank you all for the reviews!!!

Good news is, I will be able to devote more time to this fic. Bad news is, I lost my job...the folks there assumed I had call center experience, so they didn't think I needed training. They fired me, because they didn't train me basically.

Anyways...nope, don't own the song...it's from Les Mis. Don't own the characters...Hugo does.

Summary: Gudule still doesn't like Claude. Jehan and Claude have a talk. Phoebus stops by for a visit.

Summary: Phoebus begins to figure out who Agnes is. Phoebus really starts trying to woo Esmeralda. Esme and Claude elope.

As always constructive criticism and reviews rock, flames not so much.

* * *

Gudule saw no point in Fleur-De-Lys staying, if her daughter was ill. She feared that her daughter might infect Fleur-De-Lys. That say day, the pretty blonde was sent back to Paris. Gudule saw this to be the best time to sit by her daughter's side and have a serious and long overdue discussion about men. She had one man in particular in mind. She sat down, calmly in a large arm chair.

"Child, you can not seriously be in love with that man."

"I am mother. I love him dearly and I want to marry him."

Gudule began some needlework.

"Before you and he met, how did you picture your life?"

"I pictured myself finding you and living with the man I love."

Esmeralda replied, sure of herself.

"Was he the man you dreamt of?"

She began pulling the needle through some green fabric.

Esmeralda thought a moment. He was not the man she pictured herself with initially. She had once pictured herself with the captain. She had once dreamed that on a lovely spring day, when the sky was the bluest and the air the freshest, she and Phoebus would be wed. But Phoebus had not been there to rescue her, he had been the one who had lied to her.

"Phoebus gave me false oaths."

She stated at last.

"And what has Claude done for you? He stabbed a man, framing you for the crime, he allowed you to be tortured for a crime you did not commit, he took you from the prison and against your will and not to mention that he has attempted to rape you on numerous occasions. Do you honestly love him, or are you just marrying him so that the captain does not see your broken heart?"

There was a long silence. Esmeralda had no answer for Claude's actions.

"And tell me Agnes, what will you do once Claude is no longer infatuated with you? He will no doubt begin to regret his decisions, he will wonder why he has thrown away all that he once believed for some little girl. He will one day see that whatever pleasure flesh gives can never be matched by the pleasures of heaven. Tell me, when you picture yourself happily married, do you picture yourself with Claude or is it someone else? He relies too much on you to make him happy."

Esmeralda sat up. She wanted to defend Claude, but couldn't find the words to.

"What will happen when he realizes that you are just a mere woman; you will grow old, your hair will gray, your body will change, your skin will wrinkle. How will he look at you then? With boredom perhaps, with loathing, maybe. He will look upon you and detest himself."

The young girl's nostrils flared. She hated the way her mother was talking to her.

"Claude just happened to be in the right place and at the right time."

Esmeralda found it best to try and block out her mother's words.

"And what will happen when the time comes and he grows violent? Men like him always grow violent. The violence starts out just as words, hateful words, then it becomes physical…you and he will begin arguing, he will become too angry and slap you. Or, if he is not the type to grow violent, he is quite old. He will die sooner then you. He will become violently ill. Will you re-marry after he is dead? You are young, will you take a lover while he is still alive?"

Esmeralda bit back the words of hate that swelled in her mouth.

"And will Claude stand by your side if you are to fall terribly ill or will he be like so many others, will he find someone younger and more lovely than you? If it is your beauty and innocence that he is after, those fade too quickly, he will leave the moment he finds someone even more innocent."

Esmeralda gulped, not wanting her mother to continue on.

"He has placed you on a pedestal, however do not be surprised when he takes you down from it and places another girl up there."

"No."

Esmeralda could no longer hold back what she had been wanting to say.

"And what of this admirer you have? It is the captain you know. He is the man you want to make jealous, is he not?"

"Mother, I am strong enough not to succumb to the captain. I do not love him."

"Ah, but you did once. Just as Claude once loved God. Do you know why he rescued you? He wanted to be able to force you into marrying him. If you do not believe me, then go back to Paris and live as 'Esmeralda.' Tell Claude that is what you want and see what he says."

It was growing late. The sun had already set. This talk seemed to be over.

Esmeralda realized how happy she had once been. Life had been so beautiful and then Claude showed up. And then everything just went wrong.

* * *

On that same evening, at an inn somewhere between Rheims and Paris Jehan decided that it was time to talk to his brother about women, one in particular.

"So, do you love her?"

Jehan began the questioning.

"Yes."

Claude was too sure of his answer.

"And why do you love her?"

It seemed like an odd question, with an obvious answer.

"She's loving, she's…"

"She's beautiful and naïve."

Jehan saw through his brother.

"You think that by being her first, you will suddenly become immortal and godlike in her eyes."

Claude could not believe that for once in his life, Jehan was sober.

"There is but one problem with your logic Jehan. She and I have already made love."

Jehan gave his brother a look of loathing.

"You don't love her. You want to possess her. Tell me, what will happen when she is no longer young and beautiful?"

Claude had never thought of Esmeralda being capable of being anything, other than beautiful.

"Claude, what has become of your religion? All your life you have studied and prayed, and it took one girl to change your mind. Phoebus is her admirer brother. No woman has ever said 'no' to him. Is your love for her strong enough to withstand her being with him?"

Claude sneered at the thought of Esmeralda once again in the captain's arms.

"You rescued her so that she would have no choice in marrying you. You would rather have her lead a lonely existence, than allow her to die. That is not love. That is being obsessed."

"And what would you know about love?"

Claude barked.

"You are marrying a whore, because you may or may not be the father of her child. If she were not pregnant do you think you would be engaged to her?"

Jehan narrowed his eyes.

"When you were younger, did you picture yourself with a woman?"

In truth Claude had never really pictured himself getting married. He always assumed that he would be an archdeacon. He had reached a main goal in his life and up until the day he had seen Esmeralda, life had been good to him.

"If she were not beautiful would you still love her? Had she not been a virgin, would you have found yourself feeling more like a man with her?"

It was true. When he had made love to Esmeralda, Claude felt so strong, he felt as though no force on earth could harm him and that in that moment, he was God.

"If you love her, then why aren't you living in Paris right now? I see the fear in your eyes. The fear that she will one day see the captain and remember how infatuated she was with him. And what do you think would stop her? She only agreed to marry, because he was already spoken for."

Claude wanted to throttle his brother.

"You are much older than she, what will happen once you are no longer able to pleasure her? She will go looking for someone younger, more virile, a man with more stamina."

"No."

Claude could think of no other way to defend his love for Esmeralda.

"Have you ever tried to force yourself on the poor girl? She was something you could not have, something that belonged to another man. Do you have any doubts, or regrets?"

"None."

"There must be at least one."

Claude did regret one thing, and that was that he was not God. Had he been God, he would have had all the power in the universe to make Esmeralda love him and to banish all men named Phoebus from ever going near her. He would keep her in a lovely glass dome and watch her dance. She would be his most prized possession. He regretted the fact that he had given everything for her and she would never know just what it meant to him.

"Do you rely on her to make you happy?"

Claude felt heat rise to his face. He hated that his brother was right.

"I have said my piece. So, my big brother is no longer a virgin. What was your first time like?"

Jehan chuckled, patting his brother on the back to congratulate him.

* * *

It had been a long treck back to Rheims, but Claude was happy to see his fiancée was feeling better.

She threw her arms around him, greeting him at the door. But the happy moment was short lived, as Gudule pried the two apart.

"Come with me."

She took Claude by the arm and led him into the kitchen, forcing him to sit down, facing her.

"Why do you love my daughter?"

He thought this had to be some type of trick question.

"I love her because, I do. There is no reason. I could tell you all of the reasons I like being around her."

Gudule nodded and he hoped that it was a nod of approval.

"Why did you rescue her?"

"I could not bear watching her die."

Gudule shook her head.

"No. Do not lie to me. You wanted to be the only choice she had. Would you be opposed to returning to Paris with her, letting her go back to the way things were?"

Claude couldn't do that, even if he wanted to.

"Madame Chantefleurie, I love your daughter and if that is not good enough, then I am very sorry."

"No. You do not love her, you want to possess her. You have taken her virtue, and at any given time you will see fit to leave and abandon her."

"No. I love her."

"You love the fact that she needs you. You like the fact that you were her first lover and perhaps you like the fact that she is very young and naïve. Those things do not last sir."

Gudule stood, leaving the kitchen.

There was a knock at the door and Esmeralda opened it.

"Hello mademoiselle Agnes."

The man who stood in the doorway greeted her, kissing her hand.

"Good day."

She replied, not knowing what else to say.

"I was passing through, on my way to an assignment. Fleur-De-Lys told me that you haven't been feeling too well. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you were alright."

Esmeralda did not want to talk to him, she wanted him to leave. She wanted Claude to run in and beat him to a bloody pulp.

"Yes, I am well now. Thank you."

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He smiled, feeling the bizarre tension between them.

"Please come in."

She turned, walking to the couch and sat, haughtily.

"How is your fiancé?"

"He is well."

Her voice took on very little tone. She did not want him there and she would make that known.

"Agnes, who was at the door?"

Gudule asked from the hallway. Esmeralda thought of answering back, "no one."

"Captain Phoebus De Chateaupers mother."

Claude would hear and recognize that name. He would stomp into the parlor, furious that the captain had the nerve to bother her.

"Ah, and what brings you here my fine man?"

Gudule entered the parlor, a smile on her face.

"I just wanted to be sure that your daughter was feeling better. Fleur-De-Lys had mentioned to me that she had fainted and was ill, so while passing through I thought I should stop by. Now I will at least have some good news to report back to my betrothed."

The captain was gallant and spoke smoothly, winning Gudule over right away.

"And how is Fleur-De-Lys? I bet she has been busy with helping to plan the wedding."

"She is quite well herself. And yes, the plans for the wedding are coming along. We are to be wed in a few weeks and we both hope to see and your daughter there."

He purposely left out mentioning Esmeralda's fiancé.

"Yes, it will be a lovely wedding, I am sure."

Gudule exited the room, leaving the two to talk.

Claude had finally shown up.

"What are you doing here?"

He burst into the room and Esmeralda smiled.

"Tell me, is that anyway to treat a guest?"

Claude gave him a harsh look.

"I know that you are the one who has been sending my fiancée those gifts."

Phoebus was glad that she had been receiving them.

"Esmeralda, will you excuse us for a moment. This is not a conversation you should be privy to."

She nodded and went into her bed chamber.

"Listen captain, you are to leave my fiancée alone."

"Have you ever thought that it is she who can not leave me alone? She had every opportunity to leave the room and she could have told me that I could not come in. But she didn't."

Phoebus was enjoying this little verbal sparring match.

"If I see you near her again do not think that I will be so much of a gentleman. I will slit your throat."

Phoebus gave Claude a smug grin.

"What is the problem? Are you so insecure in your masculinity that you fear I might beguile her?"

Claude whipped around, and stood mere inches away from the captain's face.

"Trust me captain, she is satisfied with what she has."

With that, Claude stomped off, into Esmeralda's bed chamber.


	21. Odinary People

I love the reviews, keep 'em coming!

Nope...don't own the song...John Legend does. Hugo owns the characters.

Summary: Claude and Esme have a little argument. Phoebus gets a step closer to figuring out that Agnes is Esme. Gudule offers Claude some advice. Phoebus just won't leave Esme alone.

Preview: Somebody has a stalker. Phoebus grills Jehan for some info about Agnes. Fleur finds out that Phoebus has been sendign another girl gifts and letters.

As always the reviews rock! Flames just don't.

* * *

Esmeralda had heard everything that was said between Claude and Phoebus.

"I need to talk to you."

It was a plain statement with no details and no hope of a happy ending.

"I want to live in Paris."

The frank statement left Claude wondering what had brought this about.

"Why did you rescue me? And do not tell me that you love me."

This was a one sided conversation filled with loaded questions.

"I…I…"

He wanted to tell her the truth, but there was too much danger in the truth.

"I wanted you to love me."

It seemed that they were now past the loving and sweet phase of their relationship.

"You could not simply tell me that you loved me?"

When he first saw her, he had not been ready to give up being Archdeacon of Josas.

"What would you have said if I had told you that?"

This was turning out to be a serious conversation, which was beginning to sag way into an argument.

"I would have told you that I was in love with another man."

"So, in your mind I should have just given up everything to be with you, when you did not want to be with me?"

She didn't know how to answer.

"I would live, with the hope that someday you would fall deeply in love with me and that would be all."

Claude was becoming angry. His face was beginning to redden, his brows were knit and his nostrils were flared.

"It is true then. You rescued me, so that I would feel I needed you. And well, if you and I happened to make love, then that was just a bonus!"

She too was angry. He had ruined her life. Right now, she could be outside, in the fresh Parisian air, dancing.

"And you agreed to marry me, because Phoebus was already taken."

It was a blatant and disdainful remark.

"You have been throwing his gifts away, not because you love me. No, you have been throwing away his gifts, because you are angry with him. On the night of our engagement party why did you make love to me?"

Esmeralda was searching for a polite wording for the truth.

"It was not because you were happy with the fact that I was soon to be your husband. Again, it was because you are angry at Phoebus. He was there that night, he was with his fiancée and you were jealous. You thought that giving me what I prevented him from having would punish him!"

She did not like hearing the truth.

"You only wanted to possess me, so that no other man could! You wanted my virtue. That is why you found my mother! How long do you expect to stay with me, now that you have had what you wanted?"

"You claim not to love the captain, but I see plainly that you do."

With that, Claude stormed back out of her bed chamber and into his own, slamming her door on his way out and his door, on his way in.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the captain had been standing in the parlor the entire time. He had heard some of their argument.

"I thought she looked familiar. But what was her name? Emilee? No…Esther? No…Eponine? No…It started with an "E," I remember that much."

A sly smile overtook his face.

"Captain, you are still here?"

Gudule had stepped out from the kitchen.

"Yes Madame. I think I may have said something to upset your daughter. Could you tell her that she has my most sincere apology."

"Yes."

"Thank you. I must be off now."

Phoebus' plan was beginning to take shape. He would first question Jehan about this girl. Past that, he had no real plan.

* * *

It had been a few hours and Gudule could hear her daughter sobbing.

"Agnes, dinner is ready."

Claude had heard Gudule's announcement.

"What happened?"

Gudule's voice was full of concern for her daughter.

"She and I had our first real argument."

Claude saw no sense in lying about what had happened.

"We will let her alone for now. But you and I need to talk."

Claude sighed, not wanting to argue anymore. She led him into the kitchen.

"Listen. I know that you are going to blame me for the argument and yes, you are right. But I never intended for things to be the way they are."

Claude immediately went on the defensive.

"And how did you intend for things to be?"

Claude had admitted what Gudule had been wanting to hear and now she was willing to listen.

"We were supposed to be far away from Paris…"

"Far away from the captain you mean."

Claude nodded. There was no sense in denying that now.

"Once we were away from him, she was supposed to be thankful and fall in love with me. We were supposed to get married and live happily."

Gudule shook her head.

"Let me tell you sir, there is no happily ever after. She is angry at him, not you. The more he appears in her life, the longer she will stay angry. She cares about you, she enjoys your company, she does love you. But, as I said, she is angry. As long as that captain is in her life, she will remain angry."

It felt strange, having a civil conversation with the girl's mother.

"How do I make her happy?"

It seemed like there was no easy answer.

"You stay by her side. You show her that you did not just rescue her so that you could have her. You keep telling me that you love her."

"I do."

"Then show her."

Claude had no idea what Gudule meant.

"You did everything wrong when it came to the captain."

Claude blushed, realizing that Gudule was right.

"How should I have handled that?"

"Claude, being a gentleman is something you are not used to."

Claude understood what this meant.

"I should have let him talk."

"Exactly."

Claude was unsure what this little chat meant.

"I do not like you sir. But, I prefer you over the captain."

Claude smiled with the understanding of why.

"I should go apologize to her now."

"A word of advice: Lock the door and even if it takes an entire night of yelling and arguing, it will be worth it. At the very least each of you will truly know how the other feels."

Claude stood, thanking Gudule for the advice.

* * *

"Esmeralda…"

He lightly wrapped on the door.

"I don't want to be around you!"

She threw a pillow at the door, just as he walked in.

"I see you are in a better mood."

He chuckled, catching the pillow and setting it down at the foot of her bed.

"I'm sorry. I handled everything wrong. I handle everything wrong, so there should be no surprise that I handled the situation with the captain wrong and your questions wrong."

He fumbled his way through an apology.

"I'm sorry. I know I hurt you and that I should have told you how I felt the moment I met you. I was wrong to have taken your virtue, wrong to have lied to you. To sum it up, I'm just wrong. But I want to make things right. I just don't know how."

He watched as she sat up, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"I'm angry."

This seemed like the understatement of the year.

"Things weren't supposed to be this way. Phoebus and I were supposed to be madly in love, but then you ruined that! But I'm not mad at you."

Claude felt slightly relieved.

"I'm angry at him. You rescued me, it's not your fault that he keeps showing up."

Claude was glad that she was not angry with him.

"Esmeralda, I have one question for you. I need a serious answer, no lies."

She nodded.

"Do you love me?"

She thought through her answer carefully. She loved him, she wanted him to be her husband. She just wanted the captain to go away, so that her love was not tainted with anger.

"I do. I don't know why I love you, but I just don't want to be angry anymore."

"I understand."

She embraced him, letting him know that his apology had been accepted.

"I have the same question for you. Do you love me? Right now, do you love me? Don't bring up anything from the past."

"Yes."

He held and kissed her lips.

"I don't want to marry you with the captain looking on. There's no need for you to try and make him jealous. That jealousy is what makes you angry and I would rather not have you angry on our wedding day."

She agreed.

"Then what do you want?"

"We can go to Paris and get married with my brother as our witness."

Esmeralda seemed to like this option.

"Now, do not deny me the privilege of your company for dinner."

She took his hand, grinning.

* * *

As Phoebus was walking back to an inn, he spotted a familiar looking goat.

"Excuse me sir, but where did you find that animal?"

Gringoire recognized the captain.

"Sir, she belonged to a friend of mine."

"Yes, little Emanada."

Gringoire gave the man a confused look.

"You mean, Esmeralda."

He didn't know the captain personally, but still he did not like him.

"Yes, that's the name!"

Phoebus stated, as if he were having an epiphany.

"Why do you ask?"

Gringoire had a strange feeling and did not trust Phoebus' intentions.

"Tell me, do you know what became of the girl?"

Gringoire nodded.

"Yes. She was jailed and sentenced to hanging for stabbing a man. It has been popular rumor that she truly was a witch and somehow used the forces of darkness to escape her prison. I do not easily buy into such rumors. My guess is that she died in the prison."

Gringoire shrugged the last words off, as if they were of no real consequence.

"Do you know if she had any blood relatives?"

"Blood relatives?"

Gringoire did not like where this conversation was going.

"Yes, you know a sister or perhaps a cousin. There is a young girl in that house who bears a striking resemblance to her."

It was time for Gringoire to act fast.

"I haven't noticed."

A nonchalant answer always did the trick.

"Do you know her captain?"

Phoebus smiled with mischief in his eyes.

"I hope to soon. I know that she is the daughter of the old recluse who used to live in the Tower Roland. She is engaged to some old man, but that will change soon enough."

With that Phoebus walked on, smiling and glad for the information he had acquired.

* * *

The next morning, Esmeralda woke to find the captain standing at the door.

"I was hoping that you would accompany for a walk today my dear."

She wanted to slam the door in his face, but something told her not to.

"No."

"Come now Agnes, will you not join me on a friendly outing?"

"No."

"May I ask why not?"

There was no reason for him to be requesting a walk with her. She was not his friend.

"Something tells me that you don't like me much. At the very least, tell me what it is I have done to offend you."

She did not see the need for an explanation.

"I am happily betrothed to Claude."

"And what does that have to do with taking a walk with me through the market place?"

It had everything to do with her not wanting to go for a walk with him.

"You have been the one sending me those gifts."

"Ah, yes, just simple letters of good will and some flowers. You can not tell me that a pretty girl, such as yourself does not like flowers."

She was growing annoyed with him.

"I do not like it when you send them."

He saw her hand begin to shut the door and reacted by placing his foot in the door frame.

"Let me make amends my dear Agnes. See this walk as a time of peace, a truce if you will. Do not send me away in anger."

"Please leave."

"I will, when you agree to walk with me. Or at the very least tell me what you would like me to send you."

"I do not want you to send me anything and I certainly do not want to walk with you."

She shut the door on his foot, but he slid around the door and into the house.

"I will show up at your doorstep everyday, until you agree to go for a walk with me."

Esmeralda had turned away from him and was going about her daily routine.

"Then you might want to pitch a tent."

She knocked on Claude's door.

"Claude, when you are ready for breakfast come to the kitchen."

Phoebus followed her into the kitchen.

"What if I were to spend the day here? I just won't leave until you take that walk with me."

She rolled her eyes.

"Why do you want me to go for a walk with you so badly?"

"It's a lovely day. It would be fun to have company on such a day like this."

Again she rolled her eyes, wishing he would leave.

"I have already made plans for the day. Claude and I will be going for a walk once we finish our breakfast."

"Then I will be waiting in the parlor when you come back."

Hearing a youthful male voice, Gudule stepped into the kitchen.

"Young man what is the intent of your visit today?"

Gudule was trying to be pleasant toward the captain.

"I was asking your lovely daughter to join me in a walk through the market place."

"Did she agree to it?"

Phoebus took a step back, a little frightened at the woman.

"No."

She led him out the door, just as Claude was entering the kitchen.

"And what was that all about?"

Esmeralda let Claude take a seat first.

"He came by, wanting me to join him for a walk. I would rather go for a walk with you."

She responded, sitting in his lap.

"We could find a tree to sit under and bring something to eat. It's too lovely a day to spend inside."

She pouted, hoping to persuade him.

"We have to eat breakfast first. And what about your lesson today?"

She saw the want in his eyes.

"Gringoire could come too. He could bring a book for me to read."

She was smiling, showing her white, almond shaped teeth.

"Perhaps."

He grinned, he enjoyed being playful with her. It so often ended in her leading him to her bed chamber.

"Esmeralda, we can't go anywhere unless you let me eat."

She took this answer as a "yes." She stood and seated herself across from him.


	22. Yellow Submarine

Yay!!! I love the reviews!!!

The Beatles own the song, I don't. Hugo owns the characters...I don't.

Summary: Phoebus spoils a lovely afternoon. Claude and Esme run away together. Fleur makes an appearance.

Preview: Clade and Esme get married.(That will be a steamy chapter.) The happy couple returns to Rheims. Phoebus finds a gift for Esme and Fleur questions it.

* * *

In no time at all, Esmeralda had found the most luxuriant tree for them to sit under. It had pale pink blossoms and smelled sweet. Gringoire went to work, laying down a rug, so that their garments would not become soiled by the ground.

Gringoire was happily teaching Djali some new mathematical equations, while Esmeralda sat with a book in her hands and Claude's head in her lap. They were all blissfully unaware that they had been followed. Done reading, Esmeralda placed the book down and leaned down to kiss Claude.

"What is your favorite color?"

She found this to be the perfect opportunity to get to know him better.

"I like black, but I am beginning to like the color blue."

She nodded, ready to ask another question.

"Why do you like those colors?"

Claude had never really given much thought to why he liked the color black, or why he liked anything for that matter.

"I don't know. They're simple, not complicated. They just make sense."

She giggled, hoping it would not offend him.

"Yes, but colors aren't meant to make sense. They are supposed to look pretty and mean something. A friend of mine once told me that blue is the color of intellect and of communication and black is the color of darkness."

Claude rolled his eyes. He did not share her beliefs.

"Fine, then what is your favorite color and why?"

She looked up into the sky and thought a moment.

"I like green. A lot of things are green, plants, jewels. Green means health and in some cases pure love."

He didn't care what the color meant, he just liked hearing her talk.

"Do you like flowers?"

"Agnes, I am a man. Men don't like flowers."

"Well, I like flowers. I think they smell nice and are pretty."

With that he stood, picking a branch of flowers off of the tree and placing it in her hair. He placed it on the side, behind her ear and it looked even more lovely than it had in the tree.

A man stood behind the tree, watching and listening attentively. He really didn't care much about what Claude was saying, but what Agnes was saying. He decided that he had been hiding long enough.

"Why hello Agnes."

Agnes glared up at the man with knit brows.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything."

Gringoire stood up, seeing who the man was.

"I heard that you were talking about colors and flowers."

He looked at Claude.

"One question for such a fine lady, which did not cross you mind sir is what her favorite type of flower is."

Claude did not like the way this man was looking at his fiancée.

"So, tell me Agnes, what is your favorite type of flower?"

He had knelt down to kiss her hand, but she coldly withdrew.

"Why would you need to know?"

She questioned. He could hear the bitterness in her voice.

"Perhaps your fiancé might like to know? An even better question for a lady is what her favorite jewel is."

It seemed sage advice, but Claude was considering the source.

Esmeralda turned to Claude and spoke quietly to him.

"I like red roses and lilies. My favorite jewel is emerald."

She hoped that the captain did not hear.

"You know, flowers say just as much about a person as colors do. Let's see, roses and lilies…love, passion, purity. All of the things a man could want in a woman."

He took a flower from the tree, letting it's scent waft to his nostrils.

Esmeralda bit her bottom lip, to hide a smile. He had picked a flower, which a bee had landed on. The tiny insect had flown up, stinging him on his cheek.

"OWCH!"

Esmeralda laughed, nearly knocking Claude over.

"Well, I see that I have outworn my welcome."

Phoebus bowed politely and left. He had been stung again, both metaphorically and literally. He did, however, come away from the experience with some much needed knowledge about the girl.

He would be returning to Paris, he knew that Jehan somehow knew Agnes' fiancé, and he could find out some more much needed information from him.

Esmeralda could not control her laughter, and Claude snickered, knowing that it was wrong to revel in someone else's pain. He had taken Gudule's advice and just let the captain talk.

"Agnes, why don't we leave for Paris today? We could be there by the end of the week, get married and return. Of course we would spend another night there to consummate the marriage…"

"Yes."

She stopped laughing to listen to him.

"We need to return home first, I need to retrieve my bridal gown."

She blushed, thinking about their wedding night.

Gringoire hardly noticed the two, standing up to leave. He would stay there, with Djali for the rest of the afternoon.

It had been a few days. Phoebus had returned to Paris, partially defeated.

"I'm not sure what I am doing wrong Jehan. But, you seem to know the man she is engaged to."

"Yes. What are you driving at captain?"

"Do you know the girl?"

Jehan shook his head.

"I only know what my…my friend has told me."

It would be a mistake for him to tell the captain that his brother was the girl's fiancé.

"And what has your friend told you?"

Jehan did not like where this was heading.

"He has told me that she has an admirer and that she is not fond of him. He has told me that she wants to elope."

Phoebus was taking the information in.

"Has he told you anything else?"

"She is very kind, naïve, loving…"

The last thing Phoebus felt he needed was a list of her qualities.

"Yes, but what is their relationship like?"

Jehan really couldn't say.

"They are very much in love."

"Is that all you can tell me?"

Phoebus knew his friend was holding back.

"She looks vaguely familiar. Does she have any sisters, or cousins perhaps?"

"I do not believe so."

"Come now, there must be something you are not telling me!"

Jehan knew the truth about Agnes, he just didn't see what Phoebus needed with that information.

"I know she likes the color green, she likes roses, lilies and emeralds."

"Then it appears you know more than I."

Jehan sighed, happy this conversation was almost over.

"Her name…I heard him call her by another name before…"

Phoebus mused, unable to remember what the name was.

"Emeda…or something odd, like that."

"Are you sure it was not a pet name?"

Jehan thought fast for an explanation.

"Perhaps."

Phoebus assumed his friend was right.

""Tell me, why are you pursuing her again?"

Jehan sighed, not actually caring.

"She said 'no' to me Jehan. I want to turn that 'no' into a 'yes.'"

"And what makes you so sure you can?"

Phoebus was used to being chased, he was not used to the idea of chasing a woman. And what Jehan said had made sense. He did not just need to want her, he needed her to want him.

"Thank you."

He said, rushing out.

"Jehan…"

Jehan recognized the voice and opened the door.

"Brother, what are you doing here?"

Claude allowed Esmeralda to step inside.

"Agnes and I are eloping and you are going to be our witness."

"Well brother, I can see how you could fall victim to her charms."

Claude gave his brother a cross look.

"It is very nice to finally meet you Esmer…Agnes…What is it you would prefer to be called?"

Esmeralda had never given this any thought. Her mother had called her 'Agnes,' Claude had called her 'Esmeralda' in private, but 'Agnes' in public.

"Call me Agnes, only in public."

She preferred the name, 'Esmeralda.'

"Jehan, where is Isabeau?"

Claude looked around and didn't see her.

"She is working."

Claude was not satisfied with that answer.

"She is working as a washer woman."

Seeing the shock on his brother's face when he told him Isabeau was working made him laugh.

"Do you honestly think I would let her continue working as a whore? No brother, the only man she is pleasuring these days is me."

He turned to Esmeralda.

"Why don't you unpack? You must be tired and you need rest."

He led her into the bed chamber.

"Claude, I have the perfect book for you!"

Jehan exclaimed, tossing his brother a red book.

"Karma Sutra?"

"Trust me brother, that book will help you greatly in your marriage."

Claude leafed through the book, his face reddening with every turn of the page.

"Jehan! I highly doubt that she'll be interested in trying this."

"You would be surprised. The one where a woman is on all fours, that one is quite fun."

Jehan reminisced.

Claude seemed willing to try, but he feared that some of the positions would hurt his soon to be wife.

"A word of advice, let her pick out the positions she wants to try."

Claude was getting better at taking advice. And if it meant that he would be able to better pleasure her, then in his mind, it was good advice.

It was late in the afternoon and Phoebus was returning to the Gondelaurier household. Fleur-De-Lys had decided to try writing him a letter, just as Agnes did with Claude. She reached for a quill and a letter fell to her feet. It was not yet sealed and she was curious as to what it said.

She glanced at it, horror and sadness spread across her face. She heard Phoebus come in.

"What is this?"

She looked him in the eyes, not giving him to chance to lie.

"It's a letter."

Fleur-De-Lys could not read well, but she could pick out a few words from the letter and knew their meanings.

"This is a letter to Agnes. What are you doing writing to Agnes?"

"She and I are friends."

It was a small lie, one that he hoped would be true at some point.

"You have been spending much time in Rheims."

Phoebus nodded.

"Yes, I had to report for duty there. I thought to stop by and see if the girl was alright. You had told me she was ill and I wanted to be able to put your mind at ease."

"Is she well?"

She didn't completely believe him.

"Yes."


	23. Love Story

Thanks for the reviews and all of your support! I have an interview today and I'm going to be applying for pharmacy tech. jobs today.

Summary: Claude and Esme elope. Claude and Esme get steamy. Phoebus tries to get Jehan to help him find a gift for Agnes. Fleur finds the gift.

Preview: Phoebus sends Agnes the gift. Fleur grills Phoebus. Esme and Claude begin enjoying married life.

* * *

Claude led Esmeralda into the tiny chapel. His hands were shaking and the sound of the priest's voice who was marrying them seemed far off. Claude took shallow, steady sips of air and all he could think of was how beautiful Esmeralda looked in her white dress.

"And do you, Claude Frollo take Agnes Chantefleurie to be your lawfully wedded wife…"

Claude had not noticed the question and Jehan had to nudge him out of his stupor.

"Y…Ye…Yes, I do."

He stuttered, wanting to make sure he said it properly. He was dumbstruck over the fact that Esmeralda was saying the same exact thing. She seemed so calm, he must have looked like an utter fool to her.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Esmeralda stepped slightly toward Claude and he leaned in. It was a sweet and chaste kiss, one which Jehan felt disappointed by.

"You can do better than that!"

He shouted humorously.

Esmeralda looked down at the small bouquet of flowers and Claude saw that her hands had been shaking too. He took her hand to lead her out of the chapel, hoping he could walk. His legs were trembling, so with the first step he almost tripped.

"Claude?"

Esmeralda wanted to make sure he was alright.

"I am fine my dear."

He tilted her chin up and kissed her lips once more, before the exited the chapel.

It seemed odd, but Claude was nervous about this night. Yes, they had made love before, but that was out of anger. This time it would be out of love.

Esmeralda stood, holding her breath. She too was nervous. Claude had shown her that book his brother had given him and she had picked out a new position to try, but she worried that it might hurt.

Claude began by unlacing the back of his wife's dress. It opened up, revealing smooth, sand colored skin. He trailed his finger down her back. She removed the dress, letting it slip to the floor. She turned, facing Claude. He was in aw of the sight before him. He stepped closer, embracing her, fondling her. His hand caressed her full, round breasts, his thumbs rubbed her already hard nipples. She could feel his cock beneath his hoisiers and tunic. She kissed his lips, then sank to unlace his hoisiers. He felt her warm breath on his manhood and wondered what she was about to do. She began by kissing the tip, before taking him in all the way.

"Oh…"

He groaned sensually.

She moved her mouth along half his length, afraid that if she took him all the way in it would choke her.

Claude's hands were in her hair, tugging lightly as she began stroking him in tandem with her mouth.

He felt her tongue licking the side of his penis as she stopped and stood to relive him of his tunic.

He hard the fabric ripping, but did not care. He was hers, and he was ready to do whatever she asked of him.

The trailed a flat hand down his chest to feel his heart beating. He felt as though it would burst from his chest at any moment. And then she stopped. She left him standing there.

She had climbed into the large bed and placed the covers over herself. Claude knew that she was in a playful mood tonight.

He removed his hoisiers and joined her, positioning himself on top. He knew that this time he could be a little less gentle and that she could handle him fitting into her all the way.

"Oh Claude."

She whispered, as he entered her. She was still warm and tight…God how he loved how tight she felt. It made him feel even bigger. His hands slid down from her tits to her hips. He steadied her and pushed himself into her.

"Oh…OH! OH Claude!"

Her voice quivered, as he began pumping in and out of her. And then he pulled out completely, leaving her confused. She felt him making his way down her body and felt him spread her legs. He kissed her inner thigh, letting his tongue wander between her legs.

"Oh Claude!"

She cried out sharply, as she felt his tongue enter her. She felt his tongue move in slow circles, as it rubbed against her clit.

"Claude…"

"You're so small my love."

He whispered, kissing his way back up her body. He pressed his lips to hers, pushing himself back into her. He felt her sit up, wrapping her arms under his.

"And you are so big!"

She swooned, letting herself fall back onto the bed, still holding him.

He nipped at her neck, causing her to squeal in delight. She was enjoying this just as much as he was, if not more.

"Ohhhh! Oh Claude, harder!"

He had pushed himself to the hilt into her, he felt her body shaking, clinging to his. He smoothed back her hair, looking into her eyes. As she looked up at him, she saw him; her husband, Claude and no one else. She smiled, kissing him and reversing the position.

She straddled him, pinning his arms playfully above his head. She sank down into the position, in ecstasy. He bucked his hips, letting her know that he appreciated the view. She glistened in the moonlight. She looked like a princess, or an angel who had lost her way back up to Heaven.

The sight soon became too much for him, he sat up, holding her in his arms. Her hair felt so soft. He pressed her back down onto the bed, slowing things down a bit.

"Oh Esmeralda!"

He hissed with pleasure.

* * *

"I want to get her something."

"Then get her flowers."

Jehan stated.

"She'll expect that. Besides, flowers wilt."

Jehan rolled his eyes.

"Chocolates then."

"They don't last either."

Jehan picked up a dress.

"Women love dresses."

Jehan held up a lovely purple gown.

"I don't know her measurements. Wait!"

Phoebus snapped his fingers, seeing the perfect gift.

"An emerald necklace. That would be perfect."

"Tell me again, why this girl matters so much to you? She and my br…friend were married yesterday, so you'll be going after a married woman you know."

Phoebus smiled.

"It's not that she matters. I just want her to want me."

"Yes, that's a great way to look at it."

Jehan replied with dripping sarcasm.

"Fleur-De-Lys is a lovely girl, why can't you just be happy with her?"

"There is a simple explanation for that my friend: She wants me. Besides, there is something about that little Agnes girl. I know I've met her before, but I can't remember where."

Jehan had seen the girl dressed as both Esmeralda and as Agnes. He saw very little difference, but somehow the captain was not smart enough to figure it all out. It was clear to jehan that whether she was Esmeralda, or Agnes, Phoebus only wanted her as a trophy. Somehow Jehan did not agree with that.

"And you are sure she will accept this gift?"

"She'll have to."

The captain felt suave, which only came off as egotistical to Jehan.

"I have everything planned out."

He said with the cunning of a little boy.

"Spare me your master plan."

Jehan didn't find this amusing, since he had sobered up and gotten engaged.

"I need to go check in on something."

Jehan walked away. He was not interested in the captain. He could relay the information back to his brother and Esmeralda.

He walked into the house and noticed the door to the bed chamber was wide open. He looked in, seeing the most horrific sight.

"What the hell!"

Claude had Esmeralda leaning over the desk, his hands on her breasts, massaging them gently and pumping in and out of her rhythmically.

"Oh Claude!"

"Yes my darling, I want to hear you scream my name!"

She rolled her hips back to meet his. The two of them were obviously too busy to notice the blond youth, standing mouth agape in shock of what he was seeing.

Jehan felt like a child who had just walked in on his parents. He wanted to yank his eyeballs out and scrub them clean. Yes, the sight of the girl, begging for more, under any other circumstance would have turned him on. But the sight of his brother being the one to…He just didn't even want to think about it and, yet it was an image that had been burned into his brain. The whole idea that his brother was now engaging in those acts sickened him.

He turned around. He would come back later, hopefully when they weren't busy.

Phoebus had found the perfect gift, he would take it home and wait for the messanger to come by and deliver it to Agnes.

He had set it on his desk, but was called away from his desk by Jehan.

"I need a drink."

Jehan seemed flustered and disgusted by something.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I just need a drink."

* * *

Fleur-De-Lys had become quite curious about Phoebus' letters to Agnes. She had been paying a young man to come by and read the letters to her. She had found one with a large green stone on top of it.

"Boy, tell me what this letter says."

She said in an overly sugar coated voice.

"My dearest Agnes,

I hope that you like my gift. I know that emeralds are your favorite jewels. I saw this and thought of you. I hope that when you wear this, you will think of me and how happy we could be together…"

The letter didn't stop there, but Fleur-De-Lys did not wish to hear anymore.

"Go away."

Tears were welling up in her eyes and she didn't want anyone to see. The boy ran as fast as he could.

An hour or so later, Phoebus came stumbling into the house. She was waiting there, seated at his desk.

"What is this?"

Her voice was accusatory.

Phoebus' head felt funny, so a good lie would be difficult to conjur up this time.

"That is an esmerald necklace."

His speech was slurred and he felt groggy.

"You bought this for Agnes?"

Phoebus ran a hand across his forehead. This was not the sort of confrontation he need while he was drunk.

"I bought this…I brought this for you. You said…You said that you didn't not want that."

Words were beginning to confuse him.

"No. I have never seen this necklace until today."

"Wait…who is the necklace for?"

His brain was trying to catch up.

"You bought it for Agnes."

"Oh, yes…Right. I bought it for Esmeralda."

Fleur-de-Lys cringed at the sound of that name. But what did that little gypsy whore have to do with Agnes?

"Who were we talking about?"

"Phoebus, did you, or did you not buy this necklace for Agnes?"

"Yes."

He was too drunk to even attempt lying.

With that Fleur-De-Lys stormed out of the room, leaving Phoebus to his drunken state.


	24. Take Me Or Leave Me

Thanks for the reviews!!!

Summary: Jehan comes home drunk. Isabeau meets Claude and Esme for the first time.

I don't own the song...it's from Rent. I don't own the characters, Hugo does.

Please note: I gave Isabeau a little bit of a back story. I figured, since she's becomming a secondary character in this fic she needs a story. If that offends you in some way, then don't read this fic. I don't want to read reviews about how giving Isabeau a back story isn't true to the book. I know it's not true to the book, I've read the book. It is my favorite book.

Preview: Fleur grills Jehan. Esme recieves Phoebus' gift. Phoebus gets closer to finding out who Agnes really is.

* * *

It was early in the evening and Claude was happily surprised at how long he and Esmeralda had lasted. He was even happier that the position she had picked out hadn't caused her pain.

"Mmmm, Claude."

She giggled, holding his tunic just out of his reach.

"Esmeralda."

He playfully tackled her on the bed, kissing her.

She relinquished his tunic, pouting as she watched him put it on.

"Has that door been open all this time?"

Claude stood up, looking into the hallway.

"I don't know. I was a little distracted when we entered."

Claude blushed at the thought of someone walking past and looking in at them.

"We need to start being a little more careful. Anyone could have seen what we were doing."

She kissed his cheek, exiting the room.

In the parlor, a young woman was entering. She wore a cream colored bodice, a violet corset and skirt. Her hair was long and dark, her skin was pale. Claude had never met this woman, but he knew who she was.

"Isabeau I presume?"

"You presume correctly."

Her voice was soft, but held a nasally quality.

"I am Claude and this is my wife, Agnes."

He wasn't sure exactly what Jehan had told her.

"Yes, I know who you are. I know that her name is Esmeralda and that you were once a priest."

Jehan had told her the whole story.

"I saw him at La Pomme D'Eve with the captain. I tried to pull him away, but he said something about a 'mortifying sight.'"

She cleared her throat.

Claude blushed and Esmeralda cast her gaze downward.

"He should be home soon."

Those words felt weird to her. She had never really been able to say them before. She had lived at the brothel for most of her life, but it had never been a welcoming place. There was an awkward pause and she was the first to break the silence.

"Can I get either of you anything to eat or drink?"

It seemed to be the polite thing to do.

"Thank you."

Esmeralda sat down. Claude was still studying her.

She had scars on her arms and her hands were dry. Her eyes seemed lit with a new respect for life and herself. They were blue, but not a remarkable blue. She seemed pretty, but plain.

"Jehan tells me that you recently found your mother."

She attempted polite conversation, as she poured some wine for Esmeralda.

"Yes. She turned out to be the recluse in the Tour Roland."

Esmeralda had become used to these awkward conversations.

"My father killed my mother. I can't say where he is now I'm afraid."

Claude desperately wanted to change the subject, but didn't know how.

"How long have you known my brother?"

Claude finally asked, wanting to get off the subject of parents.

"About three years."

"Honey I'm HOME!!!"

Jehan burst into the house, announcing himself with alacrity.

"You're also drunk."

Isabeau shook her head.

"Not quite. I can still function. So, while I still have a few moments of sincerity left in me I can tell you what Phoebus and I discussed at La Pomme D'Eve."

He took a seat, across from his brother.

"He found an emerald necklace. He thinks it to be the perfect gift for Agnes."

This infuriated Claude, but he chose not to show it.

"Oh, and the two of you should really remember to close the door when you engage in…certain acts."

His speech was slurred and Isabeau was shaking her head in disapproval. Isabeau didn't like the fact that Jehan had gotten drunk, she hated the fact that he had been talking to the captain.

"I walked in on you earlier, but you two looked busy."

Claude blushed and Esmeralda gasped.

"Phoebus is planning something."

He shook his finger at his brother, but had no idea why he was doing that.

"Jehan, go lie down."

Isabeau's voice seemed far away.

"Do you want me to show you what my brother and his wife were doing?"

He stood up, placing his arms around her waist, trying to put her in a romantic mood. The stench of alcohol only served to make her gag.

"Maybe. But, you have to go lie down right now."

She whispered in his ear and he went into their bed chamber.

"I'm sorry about Jehan."

She didn't know what else to say.

"Are you alright Isabeau?"

Claude asked, noticing that she was on the verge of tears.

"Yes."

He noticed that she had been fine up until the point Jehan had brought up Phoebus.

"Esmeralda, go back to the guest chamber."

His voice came from another place entirely. He wanted to find out why the mentioning of Phoebus' name had caused Isabeau to break down.

Esmeralda nodded and did as her husband had requested.

"Isabeau, are you sure you're alright?"

She regarded him, not sure if she could trust him or not.

"You don't like the captain, do you?"

She locked her jaw and shook her head, not wanting to speak.

"Then he has done something to you?"

She looked away, not knowing if she was comfortable with answering or not.

"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But, if you do want to tell me, then I promise I won't tell anyone. I won't even tell Jehan."

His voice was kind and sincere. She wanted to trust him.

"I want to, but I can't."

He saw the pain in her eyes.

"Then answer me this one question. Is he a dangerous man?"

He saw the answer written on her face.

"I don't want him near Esmeralda."

She saw his fist clenching.

"If he wants her, then there is no stopping him. He doesn't like hearing the word 'no.'"

Claude didn't pry any further, as he didn't want to upset her. He just nodded, understanding what she had meant.

* * *

3yrs. Earlier.

Her eyes sparkled like the ocean. They were lively and vibrant. Her hair was dark and luxuriant, thick and scented with lavender. Her skin was unblemished and soft white. On her lips was a smile, showing round white teeth. She would have rivaled any woman's beauty. There was a time when she was beautiful. Life was joyful and fun. Life was perfect and it seemed that nothing could destroy that. She and some friends were out, having fun. They were joking around, laughing and drinking and somehow they had stumbled into La Val D'Amour. She was delighted with all the men who passed her, greeted her and smiled. There was one, seated at a table who had called her over to sit with him.

He was the definition of handsome. His hair was blonde, his eyes were blue. He looked to be a gentleman, though he had a rugged quality.

"What is your name?"

He asked, kissing her hand.

She blushed and answered.

"Isabeau La Thierrye, sir."

She curtseyed gracefully.

"I have never seen you here before."

He stated, hoping that she was new.

"I don't work here. My friends and I stumbled in by mistake."

She looked around, but could no longer see her friends in the thick crowd.

"It seems they may have left. Come, I know a better place than this where we can talk."

She nodded and let him lead her out of the brothel.

"Where are we going?"

The man smiled.

"La Falourdel's."

He had asked her a little about herself, which made her more comfortable with him. He looked too good to be dangerous.

He had taken her upstairs. She had sat on the bed, not knowing what to do.

He walked over, kissing her lips. His hands slid down to her breasts.

She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She was beginning to question if this man was safe to be with.

"No."

Her voice was firm, as she tried pushing him away.

"What do you mean by telling me 'no?'"

He was pushing her down on the bed.

"This isn't your first time, is it?"

"I don't want you."

"I will make tonight special for you."

She had been naïve and beautiful once.

* * *

She hated talking about the captain, it always stirred up old memories. Memories she wanted to forget.

She heard Esmeralda coming back into the parlor with Jehan slumped over her shoulder.

"He hit his head on the door."

Part of her wanted to laugh, but she knew it would not be appropriate.

* * *

Phoebus had begun sobering up. Fleur-De-Lys had let him, only so she could ask him more questions.

"Why are you giving her a gift?"

He could tell that this was a serious moment.

"It's a token of friendship, nothing more."

It was a lie. She knew it was a lie, but she was obligated to handle the lie with grace.

She could find someone who knew the captain and who knew the real reason for this gift.


	25. Hello Mr Heartache

Thanks for the reviews!!!

Nope, I don't own the song...The Dixie Chicks own it. I don't own the characters, Hugo does.

Summary: Fleur grills jehan. Fleur finds out something about Claude. Esme runs into Phoebus. Isabeau gives Esme some advice.

Preview: Phoebus lets Claude know what he knows. Isabeau and Phoebus have a run in. Fleur confronts Phoebus.

As always reviews rock, flames don't.

* * *

It had been a few days, but Fleur-De-Lys still couldn't get over what Phoebus had said.

"I bought it for Esmeralda."

Those words stuck in her head, haunting her. What did that little slut have to do with Agnes?

Then, it struck her. They both have dark hair, both of them have dark eyes, they stand at about the same height. It could not be. And, yet it all made perfect sense. And her fiancé looked oddly familiar. She had seen him somewhere before as well, but he mattered little in figuring out what Agnes had to do with that gypsy.

That afternoon, she invited a friend of Phoebus' over to chat.

"You have known my fiancé for quite some time, perhaps you have some insight as to why he has taken such an interest in this Agnes girl."

Her gust nodded.

"And what exactly am I supposed to tell you miss?"

Jehan had met her on a few occasions, but only in passing.

"Anything. Let's start with something easy. How long has he known Agnes?"

Jehan knew better than to tell this woman the truth.

"He has known her since the engagement party. He started talking about her just after the party."

Fleur-De-Lys nodded politely.

"It sounds strange, but I know that I have seen her before."

Fleur-de-Lys mused, hoping that Jehan would fill in the blanks.

Jehan felt himself breaking out into a cold sweat.

"She looks vaguely familiar. Does she have any sisters, cousins…relatives who live here in Paris?"

Jehan could see where Fleur-De-Lys was heading with asking him that question. She knew. He didn't know how she knew, but she knew.

"No. As far as I know, she is an only child. Her only relative is her mother."

Fleur-de-Lys paid close attention to his face. His eyebrows were raised, his lips were turned up in a nervous fashion, he kept rubbing his ear.

"Phoebus said something the other day. He said that he had bought a necklace for Esmeralda. But that can't be! Was she not the witch who escaped from the prison?"

Fleur-De-Lys walked around, behind the arm chair Jehan was sitting in.

"A slip of the tongue perhaps."

Jehan tried to shrug her last question off.

"Isn't it odd how they look very much alike?"

Jehan was squirming.

"Who looks alike?"

"Agnes and Esmeralda. But what I really can't figure out is what Phoebus has to do with the latter. You wouldn't have to know, would you?"

Jehan gulped.

"It was an emerald necklace, correct?"

Fleur-De-Lys nodded in response to the question.

"Then, he may have meant to say that he had bought an emerald necklace. Her was quite drunk and was getting his words mixed up."

She was now standing in front of him.

"Then tell me about this new friend of yours. He is Agnes' fiancé, is he not?"

For such a lovely and small young woman, she seemed to tower over him in this moment.

"He and Agnes are now married. They were in Paris and they eloped."

"He looks like the Archdeacon of Josas. Come to think of it, he too has seemed to have disappeared. It seems everyone in pulling these vanishing acts these days. Was the Archdeacon not your brother?"

Jehan could feel beads of sweat drip from his forehead.

"Yes, he was."

"Then is that to say your brother the Archdeacon and Agnes' husband are one in the same?"

She was clever and he respected her for being so. He was frozen, not knowing what to say.

"It's true, isn't it?"

His silence had confirmed that fact.

"Thank you, you may go."

Fleur-De-Lys now had some weapon against Agnes.

* * *

Phoebus had sent the necklace and a letter to Agnes. She had burned the letter, but was unsure of what to do with the necklace. It was far too pretty and valuable to throw away, but keeping it meant that she accepted him. She despised him. He was trying to come between her and Claude.

It had taken her a few days to finally decide what to do with it. She and Claude had decided to live in Paris. They had purchased a lovely home, near Jehan and Isabeau. They had decided that they needed their privacy away from Gudule. They were newly married and Esmeralda had been talking about wanting a child. She first thought about giving the necklace to Isabeau. But, the captain might see Isabeau wearing the necklace and arrest her for stealing it from her. She decided to put the necklace away and save it for when she had a daughter. She purchased a pretty jewelry box with an exquisite stained glass window decoration.

She would not accept any gifts from men who were not her husband. She felt wrong doing so.

Esmeralda decided to learn how to sew. The house was boring during the day, while Claude was tutoring students. Gringoire had become his assistant and Djali went wherever Gringoire went.

She had read most of the books Claude had given her, so she needed something new to keep her interest.

"It would appear that you are now following me."

A familiar voice said from behind her. She turned to see if it was who she suspected.

"Hell Agnes."

The captain had watched her coming out of her house. He had watched her walk through the market place and enter a shop. He had watched her exit that shop with a basket full of fabric and thread.

"Good day captain."

She felt that being cold with him would get him to leave her alone faster.

"I see you are not wearing my gift."

She did not see why she should be wearing it.

"And why should I accept any gifts from you?"

She turned away, not wanting to cause a scene out in public.

"You remind me of someone you know."

He called after her and she turned to face him.

"Really, who?"

She was ready to face this.

"You remind me of a little gypsy girl I once knew. You are just as stubborn as she was, you look very much like her. You are quite sweet Agnes."

He stepped closer, closing the gap. His lips were almost touching hers.

She looked into his eyes, steadily, trying to not show her fear.

"And who would ever suspect you to be a gypsy girl?"

He chuckled, pulling away and marveling at how nervous she seemed.

"Do I make you nervous?"

He whispered into her ear.

"No."

He could see in her eyes that her real answer was "yes."

"Why?"

He asked, looking deep into her eyes.

"I know the kind of man you are."

She turned away from him, leaving him with only questions.

He stood there wondering what might have happened if he had called her "Esmeralda." Finding out would have to wait for another day.

* * *

Esmeralda had been close to Jehan and Isabeau's house. Isabeau had been watching what was going on out in the streets. She had seen the captain talking to her friend.

"Agnes."

Isabeau stepped outside to invite her in.

Esmeralda approached, entering the house.

"What did that man say to you?"

Esmeralda did not understand why isabeau needed to know that information. Perhaps Claude had told her too keep an eye on her.

"He wanted to know why I wasn't wearing the necklace he sent me."

"Is that all?"

Isabeau knew from experience that with the captain, that was never all.

"He said I reminded him of someone."

Isabeau nodded.

"Who did he say you reminded him of?"

"A gypsy girl."

Esmeralda smiled and gave a laugh. She wondered if that was why he was constantly around.

Isabeau knew about Phoebus. She knew that Esmeralda had been framed for attempting to kill him. She wished that Esmeralda had succeeded.

"Do you know why he keeps sending you gifts and following you?"

"Yes. He's jealous of Claude."

Esmeralda seemed so naively sure of herself.

"No. He wants you, because he can't have you. Take my advice. Men like the captain have a difficult time with the word, 'no.'"

Esmeralda wondered how Isabeau was so sure about the captain.

"Isabeau, how do you know Phoebus?"

Isabeau became nervous and began backing away.

"He was a customer."

She said quietly.

Esmeralda understood and did not feel the need to know anymore. She knew that Isabeau hated talking about her former life.

"She can wear a pretty dress, she can clean herself up; but she is still nothing."

* * *

Phoebus stood before his fiancée.

"Don't you think for one second that I don't see through her act."

Phoebus did not feel like a confrontation today.

"And what act is that?"

He asked, part of him wanted to know what she knew.

"She is that girl."

Phoebus did not feel the need to ask what girl she was talking about.

"She's done something to you. She won't leave you be. I remember seeing her at our doorstep."

It was clear that she was not talking about Agnes. She wasn't talking about Esmeralda. There was a distant memory playing out in her head, one that Phoebus denied at every turn.


	26. I'm Not Ready To Make Nice

Thanks for the reviews!!!

The Dixie Chicks own the song and Hugo owns the characters.

I just want to say that the part where Phoebus runs into Isabeau is a deeply personally piece. I'm sort of basing Phoebus on an old boyfriend of mine, so isabeau is based on how I felt with him. I had to stop at least three times during that portion of this chapter, because for me it is an extremely heavy topic.

Summary: Fleur confronts Phoebus Isabeau and Agnes/Esmeralda. Phoebus confronts Claude about Agnes/Esmeralda. Phoebus rins into Isabeau. Basically, it's a Phoebus heavy chapter.

Preview: Isabeau is preparing for something. Isabeau gives birth. Jehan and Isabeau get married. Claude reacts to what Esme has told him.

* * *

Fleur-De-Lys turned to face him. This was the first time he had ever seen her visibly angry. She normally masked her anger with a sweet smile, or a warning. She looked at him, wanting to bid him away. That girl, she was a constant reminder of his infidelity. Fleur-De-Lys knew that Phoebus would never force himself on her, but she was a constant reminder that he could. She was just that, a constant reminder of doubt. Three years ago that girl stood downstairs, begging to be let in and all she asked for was justice. She was turned away and arrested for prostituting herself.

"Why?"

Fleur-De-Lys asked at last.

Phoebus knew what the question was, but he was too humiliated to answer.

"She was at the brothel. She was looking for a customer."

That was his story and always had been.

"I am going to ask you this question only once; are Agnes and that little gypsy witch one in the same?"

Phoebus somehow knew that she was, though she had not told him.

"I don't know."

He shuffled his feet, not wanting to look Fleur-De-Lys in the eye.

"Do you know what really happened to that little Egyptian demon?"

In truth, he did know what had happened to her, but he was ashamed to admit to Fleur-De-Lys that he was trying to seduce her.

"No."

Fleur-De-Lys nodded. She knew by his actions that he was lying to her.

"If I find out that you are lying, I will make sure that you are the one to hand her over to the executioner."

With that Fleur-De-Lys stomped off.

It was true, Isabeau had been forced into selling herself. Phoebus had raped her, his friends and family had covered that fact up. They had told the men who arrested her that she had been drunk and had agreed to sell her services to Phoebus. Her memory must have just been clouded by the wine, as so often happened in those cases. Isabeau's reputation had been tarnished, no one wanted to work side by side with a whore. Phoebus had introduced her to Jehan, but at the very least, Jehan respected her.

* * *

It was near noon and Claude heard a knock on the door. He had been sitting by the fire place, listening to Esmeralda read her favorite book.

"I'll see who it is."

He said, kissing her cheek before going to the door. He immediately recognized the captain and wanted to slam the door in his face.

"Excuse me sir, but is Agnes in?"

He wanted to talk to his wife. Claude could feel his hand involuntarily curl into a fist.

"Or, perhaps I should ask you if Esmeralda is in?"

Phoebus tilted his head, smugly. Claude's pulse raced and he did not know what to say.

"My wife does not wish to see you captain."

"Ah well, then perhaps you and I should chat."

He shoved his way into the house, passed Claude.

"I have already told you that she does not wish to see you. Now, I suggest that you leave."

Claude sneered as he grabbed Phoebus by the arm to throw him out.

"I am not interested in talking to her. I am more interested in whatever it is you know about the girl. I would particularly like to know her connection to the gypsy who disappeared from the prison."

Claude felt his jaw tightening. He wanted to hit the captain over the head with a blunt object, or stab him and this time make sure he was dead.

"You see, your wife, Agnes bears a remarkable resemblance to a young gypsy girl named, Esmeralda. In fact, I have heard you refer to her as Esmeralda."

Phoebus smiled, thinking that he held all the cards.

"You are mistaken sir. I often call her my little Emerald. She often dresses in green, as it is her favorite color."

It was a plausible excuse.

"Call her in using the name, 'Esmeralda.'"

Phoebus was becoming threatening.

"She will not answer to that name, as her name is Agnes."

"If she does not answer to the name, 'Esmeralda,' then I will leave."

Claude saw the captain ready to draw his sword.

"Esmeralda! Esmeralda, come into the parlor a moment."

Claude prayed that she did not answer his call. He counted the seconds in his mind.

"1…2…3…4…5…"

She had not come.

"You see captain, she does not answer to that name and she never has."

Phoebus was certain that he had the right girl. He would have to question her himself, but that would have to be at a time when Claude was not home.

With that, Phoebus grudgingly left and Claude hurried back into the large bed chamber.

* * *

"The captain…he's onto you. He knows who you are."

Claude was flustered and could see the fear grow in his wife's eyes.

"I have proven him wrong for now, but from now on you are Agnes whenever we have company and whenever we are out. The only time you are to be Esmeralda is when you and I are alone and in private."

He placed his arm on the mantle and ran his hand over his forehead.

"And you are not to leave this house without an escort."

"What?"

She asked in surprise.

"I am to be your prisoner once again? No. I am your wife…"

"And he has the power to hand you over to the courts!"

Esmeralda shook, she had never seen her husband so distraught and angry.

"If he knows who you are, then chances are, his fiancée knows who you are. If she knows who you are, then it is a good chance that she knows who I am."

As far as Esmeralda knew, Fleur-De-Lys was still unaware of who she really was.

"Why must I suffer for what they may, or may not know?"

It seemed like a rhetorical question, but part of her truly did not understand.

"If he asks me about 'Esmeralda' I can just lie, if his fiancée asks me about you, I can lie."

It seemed like the perfect plan, but then so did so many other things.

"Even that is not a fool proof plan of action."

She was not sure if it was the right time to say anything, but then when was the right time?

"Claude, I am pregnant."

* * *

Phoebus was storming down the street, shoving everyone in his path. He was being made to play the fool and he did not like playing the fool. And then, there in his path stood her. She had grown older, her face held more lines and more flaws, her eyes had become dull, her skin was marked with time and scars. He dared not speak.

She stood, watching his every move. She was frozen to the core and afraid to speak. In her mind she had pictured herself lunging at him, clawing his flesh and pummeling him until he was dead. She had waited three long years to do so, but she could not. She couldn't kill him with the rest of Paris looking on as witnesses. One strike and she would once again be blamed and he would walk away, unblemished. She could feel his gaze crawling, like bugs beneath her skin. It made her sick, She silently prayed for the strength to walk away, or that he would walk on.

"I recognize you."

He broke the silence.

Would he recognize her as Jehan's fiancée, or the girl he raped?

"You are that whore from La Val D'Amour. My friend Jehan speaks highly of your services."

She felt all of her loathing well up, she brought her hand up to slap him, but something inside her stopped her. She couldn't hit him, as it was for the longest time, true.

She heard the captain laugh and it made her hate him all the more.

"You are engaged to him, are you not?"

She nodded, afraid of what she would say if she were to speak.

"That is too bad. If you were not, then you could accompany me to La Va D'Amour tonight. Of course, what Jehan doesn't know won't hurt him."

He caressed her arm, hoping it would persuade her to follow him.

His touch only served to disgust her more. In her mind she was brutalizing him. She was imagining him, a sword through his midsection and her hands around his neck. She saw herself castrating him with a smile upon her face. She didn't want to know what he was picturing.

"Tell me, Isabelle, are you faithful?"

It was such a condescending question and the fact that he had not gotten her name right only served to anger her further.

"A faithful whore is just that, a whore."

He whispered into her ear, before walking on.

She wanted to throw something at him, wanted it to hit him in the head and knock him unconscious. She wanted to hear the crunch of every one of his bones breaking in her hands and beneath her feet. But she just stood there, on the verge of tears.


	27. Hate Is The Star

Thanks for the reviews!!!

Nope, I don't own the song...it's a song from the TV show Xena The Warrior Princess season 3, episode title: Bitter Suite. Yes, I know, I am a nerd...

I don't own the characters, Hugo does.

Summary: Claude's reaction to Esmeralda's pregnancy. Isabeau's reaction to her child. Fleur confronts Agnes.

Preview: Fleur grills Claude. Phoebus calls Claude out. Fleur calls Agnes out. Isabeau leads Phoebus somewhere.

As always reviews are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

For some moments, Claude stared blankly at Esmeralda. He had heard what she said, it just took a while for news like that to register.

"Claude didn't you hear me? I said I'm pregnant!"

She smiled with all the joy in the world, hoping that this would be good news for Claude.

He felt as though he had been hallucinating when she told him her news the second time.

"I heard you. I just…"

His voice trailed off. He knew what he had to say and he knew it was not what she wanted to hear.

He walked off, in a confused state.

He knew that as long as Phoebus and Fleur-De-Lys knew she was Esmeralda and he was The Archdeacon of Josas, they could find some way of tormenting the child. And what if Phoebus did find out, with absolute certainty that Agnes was Esmeralda? Up until now it had been a lucky guess, but if the captain ever did find out the pure, undeniable truth, the child would be left with no parents. He could not allow a child to be left like that. He thought back to how his parents had died and how he had found Jehan. Claude wanted to join in and celebrate with Esmeralda. He wanted to be happy with the fact that he had gotten her pregnant and that there was a chance the child would be a son, but knowing that everything else was falling apart around them seemed to drain the fun out of everything.

Isabeau had returned home and had begun cooking dinner, when Claude had wandered in, looking for Jehan.

"He's not here. You could probably find him at The Palace of Justice. He usually does not return home until around six o'clock. And if the courts end up torturing someone, then well, he might not be home until much later. But, you are welcome to stay as long as you like."

She took a seat across from him at the table.

"You look troubled."

She slid a mug of mead to him, which he declined to drink.

"Trust me, it helps."

She passed it back to him.

"I've never been much of a drinker."

He stated, now thinking that this was the perfect time to start. He took a slow sip, not knowing what to expect.

"What's wrong?"

It was obvious that he was avoiding whatever it was that had been troubling him.

"It's nothing you can help with I'm afraid."

He sighed, wearily.

"And my husband can?"

This was a new development. He had never heard her refer to Jehan as her husband.

"What?"

"We got married last night."

She gave him a small smile. She still wasn't sure why she needed to be married.

"He is my brother. I am not sure why, but I feel more at ease talking to him."

"It's about Esmer…"  
Claude lunged across the table, throwing a hand across her mouth.

"Shhh!"

He did not want her to say his wife name aloud.

"Her name is Agnes."

He whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear what Isabeau had almost said.

"Alright. It's about Agnes then."

Claude was silent.

"I know it is about her, because with men, all problems stem from a woman."

Claude chuckled.

"You two had an argument?"

Claude sipped his mead.

"I'll take that as a 'no.' Hmmm. You did something wrong in bed?"

Claude's face turned red and he took a large gulp of mead.

"No…it wouldn't be that. All she has done is talk about you and how good you are in bed."

Claude's eyes grew wide with embarrassment.

"She talks about us?"

Isabeau shrugged.

"She sometimes asks for advice. What did you think women talked about?"

Claude really had no clue. He always thought women talked about sewing and clothes. He did not expect Esmeralda to be the kind of girl to go asking for advice. The question seemed rhetorical.

"Of course she has needed some advice, what do you expect when it's two virgins going at it?"

"Oh well, at least she is no longer asking Gringoire about penis size."

Claude mumbled, feeling the effects of the mead.

"It is about Agnes, but it has nothing to do with what goes on in your bed room."

Isabeau felt the need to clarify.

"Agnes is…she's pr…"

Isabeau stopped, her face white, pain in her eyes.

"Jehan! Where's jehan?"

Her face contorted into one panic stricken mass. She was holding her belly and breathing heavily.

"I'll go and see if I can find someone to find him."

Claude could see clearly that Isabeau was going into labor. He looked out in the street, hoping to see someone he knew.

"Gringoire!"

He shouted. Seeing the poet, he waved him over to the door.

"What is it sir?"

"Isabeau is giving birth. Go to The Palace of Justice and find Jehan and bring him back here. No…Find a midwife first, bring her here and then find jehan and bring him here."

Gringoire ran as fast as he could. Claude stayed by Isabeau's side until the midwife came, then he stepped outside. It felt odd when the midwife congratulated him and handed him the child. He had to explain that his brother was the girl's husband and the father of the child. He let Isabeau rest and when Jehan arrived home, handed the baby to him.

"Jehan, it's a girl."

Claude said with all the wonder in the universe. He now knew how he should react to the news Esmeralda had given him. He returned home, no longer needing to talk things over with his brother.

"Agnes."

Claude stood in the doorway, watching Esmeralda stitch together two pieces of silk.

"Promise me that I will be here when the baby arrives."

He kneeled down and embraced her.

Things appeared all well and good. Isabeau was happy with her new daughter. She had named the tiny girl, Emilee. She would often talk to the child, while walking around the house. But, as the days went on, becoming weeks and then months it was becoming more apparent that the child looked nothing like Jehan. The day would soon come, when Jehan would realize who the small child looked like. The day would come when Jehan would question Isabeau.

Isabeau loved her child. She hated the child's biological father. The resemblance would become more plain, as the child grew and Isabeau did not know if she could handle seeing him when she looked at her daughter. It was on a slow evening, Isabeau was chopping some vegatables for a soup and Jehan was tied up in court. Each time the blade hit the table, she felt oddly strong. She imagined the table being his legs, his arms, his chest. She imagined him, for once being powerless against someone else. With the same feral look in her eyes, she turned to see her daughter. The small child would be a constant reminder of him. She held the knife above her head, ready to strike.

"Isabeau! Isabeau what are you doing?"

Jehan had rushed in, catching her arm before it could descend.

She stared into Jehan's eyes, ashamed of herself.

Esmeralda was three months along. She would go into the market on a daily basis, but she was never allowed to go by herself. Claude always made sure that he, Jehan or Gringoire accompanied her. The captain seemed to shy away when he saw Jehan.

Esmeralda was happy that she was carrying Claude's child. She did not understand why Claude had such mixed feelings about having a baby.

"Hello Agnes."

A familiar female voice said from behind her. Esmeralda had been looking at fabrics and the voice had disturbed her line of thought.

"Hello Fleur-De-Lys."

Esmeralda replied back, feeling a lump in her throat.

"Phoebus told me that you were pregnant. Do you know what you will name the child?"

Esmeralda shrugged. She hadn't really given it much thought.

"Do you know what name I find quite lovely?"

Fleur-De-Lys ran her hand over the green silk, smiling wickedly.

"Esmeralda."

She whispered, watching Agnes' reaction.

For a moment, Esmeralda felt frozen. Her heart had stopped and her blood ran cold.

"That's such an odd name."

She recovered, laughing at the name.

The look Fleur-De-Lys was giving her told her that she knew something.

"I think you have heard it before."

Fleur-de-Lys was advancing. She ran a thin finger over a spool of thread.

"And why would you say that?"

Esmeralda gave a nervous chuckle.

It was as though Fleur-De-Lys could sense her fear.

"I once knew a little Egyptian girl who looked just like you. She was arrested for stabbing and attempting to kill Phoebus. She had bewitched and seduced him into meeting her one night. It was popular rumor for quite sometime that she had disappeared from her prison. Of course, that rumor only cemented the thought that she was a witch into their minds."

Esmeralda could feel her heart pounding as she shook with fear.

"Really, and why is it that you are telling me this?"

Esmeralda tried to maintain her composure.

"I don't think she disappeared. I think she had the aid of someone else. And isn't it strange how at around the same time that the little witch disappeared so did The Archdeacon?"

Esmeralda knew that if she tried to offer up some explanation, Fleur-De-Lys would know that she was the gypsy girl and that Claude was the Archdeacon. She kept quiet.

"Your husband bears a remarkable resemblance to him. And come to think of it, there was some 'Phantom Monk' mentioned in the gossip about the little witch. I suppose she could have seduced him too and gotten him to rescue her. But, what do you think of all of this?"

Fleur-De-Lys smiled, waiting to hear Esmeralda confess.

"I think it's all a silly rumor."

Esmeralda replied, purchasing some fabric and leaving. Gringoire had been waiting outside with Djali.

Fleur-De-Lys went to the door of the shop and spied a small pouch around the goat's neck.

"I know that goat."

She stated, waltzing outside.

"It used to belong to the little witch."

Esmeralda set her jaw, ready for the confrontation.

"That girl was my wife."

Gringoire spoke up, seeing that Esmeralda was too frightened to give an explanation.

"The goat belonged to her. She died in prison."

Fleur-De-Lys did not like the plausible explanation he had given.

"And what is this?"

She reached for the pouch.

Esmeralda looked up at Gringoire, fear in her eyes.

Fleur-De-Lys opened the pouch and coins flew out.

"What were you expecting?"

Gringoire laughed at the infuriated look on Fleur-de-Lys' face.

"That goat used to wear a pouch around its neck with wooden letters inside. It could spell out the word 'Phoebus.'"

Esmeralda looked up at Gringoire with relief.

Defeated, Fleur-De-Lys stormed away. If she could not show that Agnes was Esmeralda, then she would have to prove that Claude was also the Archdeacon.

Isabeau felt something growing inside her. It had been planted there years ago and now it was overgrown and was beginning to take over. She would let it.


	28. Let's Begin The Inquisition

Yes, this is a long overdue chapter. I apologize for that fact, however I have been busy applying for Financial aid and looking for work.

I'm actually in a fairly goofy mood today...I have a semi-joke. Two muffins are in an oven. One muffin looks at the other and says, "Wow, it's hot in here!" The other muffin screams, "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH a talking muffin!"

Yes, it's a corny/bad joke, but it should make you chuckle.

I do not own the lyrics to this song from History of The World Part 1. I do not own the characters.

Thanks to all who are still reading/reviewing.

Let's see here...

Summary: Jehan knows who Emilee's father is. Claude just keeps getting grilled.

Preview: Are there any Phoebus haters out there? If so, then you'll enjoy the upcoming chapter. If not, then you won't enjoy it that much. Please note that the next chapter will be a violent and graphic one.

As always reviews are appreciated, flames not so much.

* * *

It was a fact, one that she could never deny and one which she loathed. Emilee was not Jehan's child. She had known all along that the child was not his and she was at ease with that fact. The fact that she could never find herself at ease was that this was Phoebus' child. Jehan looked down at Isabeau. She was slumped over in a chair, crying.

"She's not yours!"

Isabeau exclaimed with disappointment.

"She is…"

She didn't know how to bring herself to say that the child was Phoebus'.

"She might be his, but that does not mean that she is him."

Jehan knew. Whether the child was biologically his or not, he still loved Isabeau and wanted her daughter to have a proper father.

Although this made her feel mildly better, Phoebus would always in some way be a part of Emilee's life. She would one day see the captain. She would see the resemblance between herself and him. Isabeau was not a strong enough woman to be able to handle that.

Jehan sat by his wife's side, cradling the tiny blonde infant in his arms. He loved his daughter, she made him feel protective and brought out a nurturing side of him.

It was early in the afternoon, Esmeralda was lying on the bed with Claude's head on her stomach. He was overjoyed with the fact that he would soon be a father. He would often lie down with Esmeralda and read or talk to the being which grew inside of her. Today, unfortunately was not completely a joyful day. He had been asked by Madame Aloise if he would be willing to tutor her daughter. She had promised to pay quite well, which Claude could not pass up.

"Why can't Gringoire be her tutor?"

Esmeralda was stroking Claude's head.

"My sweet, the woman asked for me to tutor her daughter."

He kissed her naval and then sat up.

"Besides, Gringoire takes Djali everywhere with him, and would you want to risk the chance that Fleru-De-Lys might recognize your goat?"

He asked gently.

"No. I would rather you stay here with me."

She kissed his lips.

"As would I."

Claude hated the idea of leaving Esmeralda alone. Phoebus had already come by twice that week, both times when Claude was not home. The captain knew something, the question was "how much?"

"I doubt she even wants to learn how to read."

Esmeralda's tone became rude when talking about Fleur-De-Lys.

"She probably requested you, because she knows that you are my husband."

Claude liked hearing her call him that.

"Yes, but what she does not know is my real name."

He stood and exited the room. It was true, he had been introduced to her at the engagement party as, Monsieur Claude-Pierre Francois. Even if Fleur-De-Lys had a suspicion, she could not prove his true identity, unless Phoebus could prove Agnes' true identity.

* * *

The captain always seemed near by. It always seemed that he was watching their house. He would stand at a corner and wait for Claude to leave. He would step up to the door and knock, then wait for Agnes to answer. He would ask her to join him for a walk and she would decline. He decided that after twenty or so failed attempts that he should try and rattle Claude. He caught up to the man, just as he was reaching Madame Aloise's doorstep.

"Good day Monsieur Francois."

Phoebus stood a few paces behind Claude.

"You are here to tutor my wife I presume?"

"Yes."

"And how is your wife?"

"She is well."

Claude was annoyed with these pleasantries. If the captain was trying to gain information about his wife, then the least he could do was begin with those questions.

"You seem quite familiar. I believe we must have met before your engagement party. Tell me, have you always been a tutor?"

Claude could find some version of the truth and bend it, after all, that is what he suggested Esmeralda do.

"No. I used to instruct people on religion and for a short while medical science."

Phoebus nodded. He was trying to take a more friendly approach in finding out who, this man was.

"Really, I thought you looked familiar! You know, there used to be an Archdeacon right here in Paris who dabbled in the 'dark arts.' A rumor, I can assure you, but he was the brother of my friend, jehan."

Phoebus smiled, hoping Claude would take the bait.

"Really? And what happened to this Archdeacon?"

Claude had heard very little gossip about himself, and thought the captain's explanation might be interesting to hear.

"He disappeared around the same time that little witch did. Some say that he was the 'Phantom Monk,' who aided the witch, others say that he passed away and some even say that the girl and he were one in the same."

Claude chuckled. People would belief anything.

"I do not believe any of it."

Claude watched as the jovial smile on the captain's face darkened and twisted.

"Dom Claude Frollo…"

Claude cold feel the icy name wash over him. He became petrified, unable to move or speak. The captain hadn't even made a full acqusation yet, he was just watching for Claude's reaction.

"Yes, that was his name. Do you want to know what I think happened?"

Claude could feel the release of one thin breath from his chest.

"Yes, that would be very good."

"I think that he helped that little gypsy escape. I think that he is still with her. Your features are very similar to his. Are you certain you are not related?"

"No, I can not say that we are."

Claude could feel himself stabilize.

"I should ask Jehan if he knows anything."

With that the captain walked off. He had observed Claude's reaction. He had seen the fear in his eyes. He could soon have Agnes all to himself. She loved her husband and would do anything to keep his name from being sullied, even if it meant sullying her own.

* * *

Madame Aloise greeted Claude as he entered her abode. She took him to a small desk, where Fleur-De-Lys was already seated and furiously trying to read something. She appeared frustrated with the level of difficulty of the book. For some moments he stood back and watched her. Her problem was not that she had trouble with the pronunciation of words, or the physical aspect of reading…identifying letters or numbers. Her difficulty came from comprehension. At last, Claude approached her and introduced himself to her.

"Yes, I remember you. You are Agnes' husband."

Her voice was strong, yet polite.

"Or, does she prefer to be called by a different name?"

From this first question, Claude could plainly see that he had not been chosen as the girl's tutor, because he was a great instructor.

"And what name would you suggest?"

Claude knew that if he were to run away now, Fleur-De-Lys would see herself as being right.

"I would not know of any other name to call her."

She shrugged, seeming to not care whether or not Claude gave her an answer.

"She does resemble a little gypsy girl Phoebus once knew."

Fleur-De-Lys mused, reaching for a letter.

"It is because of her dark hair."

Claude decided that he should over some form of explanation as to why his wife looked like a gypsy.

"The little witch answered to such an odd name."

Fleur-De-Lys unfolded the letter.

"'Esmeralda,' I believe was the girl's name. She was quite infamous, you know?"

Claude looked like a statue. He would not answer, he would not give this woman the satisfaction of winning.

"What am I saying? Of course you know!"

She flattened the paper out on the desk.

"Being a former man of God, you dealt with so many of those little gypsy demons."

Fleur-De-Lys took a quill from the ink well and began to write something on the paper.

"And what makes you think I am a former man of God?"

Claude remained collected.

"Your name. It is not, 'Claude-Pierre Francois.' I recognize you sir. I recognize you as Dom Claude Frollo, The Archdeacon of Josas."

Claude could feel every muscle in his body tighten.

"My question for you is, what could a priest want with a gypsy witch? What would lead him to attempting to kill another man?"

Claude had been blind sighted by this woman. He was not prepared to answer such questions. And she had stated with the utmost certainty who he truly was.

"How can you be so sure that this Archdeacon you take me for had anything to do with the gypsy?"

He took a moment to steady himself.

"You do not deny being the Archdeacon then?"

He wanted to correct her. He wanted to tell her that he did deny it, that it was never true. But, he had already jumped ahead in Fleur-De-Lys' questioning.

"I am certain of who you are, as you did not directly answer my question."

Her voice had gone from warm and friendly to icy cold. In this moment she did not resemble a pretty, young blonde girl. She was the judge, jury and the torturer. The inquisition had begun and he was being placed on the rack. Claude could feel tiny beads of sweat form on his brow. He watched as she scribbled something on the paper, though he knew not what.

"You were the 'Phantom Monk,' were you not? Was it you who made the attempt on Phoebus' life, or was it that horrible little gypsy witch?"

Fleur-De-Lys did not hide the disgust in her voice. She hated Esmeralda and if this man had aided her in any way, she hated him as well.

"I am not a priest, I was never a priest and I have never been known as the 'Phantom Monk.'"

His voice was shaking. He could feel the life he had created with Esmeralda slipping out of his control.

"And what about Agnes? She resembles that gypsy girl and she is often seen with some man and a goat. I recognize the goat. It used to wear a small bag around it's neck with letters carved on wooden tiles. The goat used to arrange the letters to spell, 'Phoebus.' A trick to aid the demon in her witchcraft."

"The man you speak of used to be a gypsy."

At the sound of these words, he could feel the loss of everything.

"You allow your wife to consort with gypsies?"

A 'no' answer would lead to the question of how Agnes had come into the company of a gypsy man. A 'yes' answer would be the nail in the proverbial coffin.

"What is it that you have to gain from this?"

Claude could no longer hide the anguish and distress from his voice.

"I want to see that little witch hanged. She beguiled my husband, she is a witch, she attempted to kill my husband."

He could keep denying everything, or he could tell this woman everything. She held his fate and the fate of Esmeralda.

"I stabbed the captain."

Claude stated proudly.

"I followed him and a friend…my brother for a while, knowing that he had an appointment with the gypsy girl. I was…I hated…I loved her. She had no idea that I had followed the captain. She was entirely innocent."

Fleur-De-Lys scoffed at the man's last words.

She handed him the piece of paper.

"Sign it."

She demanded, handing him the quill.

It was a confession. She had written down, word for word what he had just said.

"I can not."

His voice began to fail him and his hands shook too much for him to keep hold of the quill. He noticed that the name 'Claude-Pierre Francois' was not mentioned in the document. If he were to sign it, there was the chance that it might not hold in court. The beginning stated "I Dom Claude Frollo, Archdeacon of Josas do hereby confess…"

He signed the paper, using his alias. It was clear to him that Fleur-De-Lys wanted him to sign, using his real name.

"I will go now."

He stated, folding the paper and handing it back to her.

After her had left, she opened the document and looked at his signature. She had thought herself victorious until seeing his signature.

* * *

Phoebus had knocked on Agnes' door. She was either not there, or she was not answering. He looked around to see if she was near, but felt someone tying a dark piece of cloth around his eyes.

"Agnes?"

He questioned, hoping it was she. Whoever it was, they were not speaking. The person took Phoebus' hand and led him away from the doorstep. It had led him down several streets and over the threshold of another doorstep. It had led him up a flight of stairs and into a room, where it had closed the door.


	29. White Horse

Thanks for the reviews!!! Oh and I got a job at Macy's!!!

Taylor Swift owns the song, Hugo the characters.

Well, I wasn't going to do this chapter, until I found out the ratio of Phoebus haters to Phoebus likers...but I felt the need to write it anyways. If you are one of the rare few who does like book Phoebus, then you might not want to read this next chapter. It is graphically violent...I'd say an 8 out of ten.

Summary: Phoebus gets tortured by a strange being. Esme and Claude begin making plans for a getaway.

Preview: A letter is given to Fleur from Phoebus.

* * *

Claude wandered home. He had been ambushed by Fleur-De-Lys' certainty in who he was and who his wife was. It was time now, to tell Esmeralda what had happened. She would offer up some optimistic way around the captain and his new wife, and oddly, somehow her ideas seemed to work. At the very least, her ideas made Claude a happier man.

"He came by again."

Claude need not ask "who."

"Oh?"

"He knocked once, but when I went to the door he was not there."

She answered, bewildered by why the captain would knock and then leave.

"You are home early Claude. Did things not go well?"

He kissed her cheek, not wanting to talk about it.

"She requested me, only because I am your husband. She knows who I am and wanted me to sign a confession."

"Did you?"

Esmeralda gasped, worried more for the child within her than anything else.

"Yes. I signed it with my alias. The way she wrote the document, it would never hold up in court."

He shrugged, thinking little of the day's events.

"What do you think she'll do?"

Esmeralda was still mildly worried.

"There isn't much she can do, unless I sign a confession, or if I stand before a crowd and confess."

He walked to their bed chamber to lie down, knowing that Esmeralda would follow. Lying down, he yawned. The day had been too taxing.

"I finished making a dress today."

Esmeralda stated.

"The red one?"

Claude felt foolish for not asking her how her day had gone.

"Yes. I'll wear it tomorrow, so you can see it."

She lay down next to him, comforting him.

In the darkened room, Phoebus could not see. He could feel the figure lightly pushing him back into a chair, he could feel the figure wrapping rope around his wrists and ankles. He felt his pulse begin to quicken. He began to seriously doubt that the person who had brought him here was Agnes. The being had not removed his blindfold, which made him even more nervous. He began to panic, turning his head, trying to knock the black cloth loose and see who it was that had brought him here. He heard the door open and close.

"Hello?"

He shook, not knowing what was going to happen. Had he been left there to die? Was this some awful prank? He struggled, only to find that he was bound to the chair.

A while later, he was not sure how long, he heard the door reopen and close once again.

"Who are you?"

His voice was overtaken by fear of this unknown being. He heard a bottle being uncorked and the sound of liquid being poured. He shook, anticipating his captors want for him to drink.

"What are you giving me?"

He asked, turning his head away, hoping to avoid the goblet.

He did not feel mug, or, goblet. He felt a hand removing the blindfold.

"Thank you!"

His voice was barely audible. He assumed that the ordeal was over and that he was being set free. He did not expect to see a cloaked figure standing before him. Was this the "Phantom Monk," or perhaps a deadlier foe?

The figure poured the contents of a small dark vial into the goblet.

"What is that?"

Phoebus frantically stretched his neck to see what was being poured into the goblet.

"Why don't you speak?"

The "Phantom Monk" had spoken and had been quite kind to him. He had given Phoebus the money to pay for the room the night he was to meet Esmeralda.

"If you be the one they call, 'The Phantom Monk' please answer."

His voice was almost a whimper.

The being approached him, this time holding the goblet to his lips. A hand grabbed hold of his neck and roughly tilted his head back. The being wanted to be sure the captain drank every drop.

"No! Dear God no! Please, if it is money you, then take it. I have nothing more to offer."

He attempted bargaining with the figure, as it took from a table a large knife. This being frightened him, far beyond any other. It did not speak, it was cloaked and he had no idea where he was, or what this figure before him wanted. He was at its mercy. He could only sit and watch, as the figure rand the knife down his chest, ripping the fabric of his doublet and drew blood. It would only be a superficial wound, but the sight of blood was enough for Phoebus to believe this figure to be evil.

"Let me go and no one will ever know of this."

The figure seemed to be pondering his offer.

"Thank you!"

He exclaimed, watching as the figure went behind him to untie the ropes from around his ankles. He felt the ropes being cut and he was almost ready to stand and draw his sword. The figure came back around to the front and he could feel the blade slide beneath the ropes on his wrists. He felt the tip of the knife, driving into his palm, felt it pierce right through the flesh and heard it hit the arm of the chair.

"NO!"

He cried in agony. The sound did nothing to sway the being. The figure drug the knife from the center of his palm, between his middle finger and ring finger. His eyes were closed tightly in pain. He did not want to see what was going to happen next. The figure raised the knife over his other palm and then struck down, pinning his hand face up. The figure grabbed the bottle of wine and another tool. Although, he could not see this being's face, he could tell that it was pondering something. It tilted the bottle in its hand and then poured the remaining liquid into the captain's palm.

"It burns!"

The stinging sensation cause him to cry out.

"What are you?"

He had given up asking "who." He was now convinced that this was some demon from Hell.

The figure placed the other tool to the captain's chest. It the torture's branding iron.

"OH GOD!"

He heard his flesh sizzle, smelled it burn and saw the black mark, as the iron was pulled away. Then it was placed, lightly against his cheek. His shaking seemed to satisfy his captor. This person wanted him afraid and vulnerable, this person wanted to see him in pain. The iron was pressed against his flesh. The captain thought of all those pretty girls he had once been able to woo. He thought about what they would think of these new deformities and prayed that this being killed him. With his head turned away, the captain did not see the figure leave his side or grab another instrument of torture. The next thing he felt was a smooth hand on his charred cheek. This was not a touch of kindness though. His captor was admiring its work. This was the most foul of instruments.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Phoebus questioned, knowing that he would be a ruined man if his captor were to let him live.

With that the figure quickly stood and took up another instrument of torture. One swift blow of a hammer misaligned the captain's jaw. His captor reveled in the sound of clicking and crunching the joint made.

"Naw mar!"

Even he was unable to comprehend the words. He had meant to beg for the being to stop, but unable to move the entire right side of his mouth made speaking difficult.

"Kale me! Jus ples kale me!"

He was begging for a swift death.

He watched as the being stooped down and grabbed hold of his jaw.

"Naw! NAW!"

He had been reduced to tears.

The hand swiftly realigned his jaw. It was a painful moment, but he was glad that it had been swift. He only had to watch and wait for whatever was to happen next. This was obviously a skilled tormenter. He felt cold hands unexpectedly unlace his hoisiers. Was this some game? Some bizarre sexual romp?

He watched the being move across the room and turn to face him. He waited for a hand to lift the next device. And then, two hands went up to remove the hood. He now saw his torturer, clear as day. She meandered back over to him, kneeling down. She smiled, before placing her full pink lips around his flaccid cock. She reached up, extracting the knife from his palm. She was teasing him, he knew that this must be a prelude to his death. And then, she spoke.

"You may leave now."

Her voice was casual, as if telling a guest that they ought go home, before wearing out their welcome.

Phoebus felt his lip quivering. He felt his mind racing, picturing his hands around that white neck, forcing her to gasp for air.

He stood, he felt light headed and weak, he felt himself falling. There were two gashes on his legs. She had cut his heels.

A murderous grin spread across her face, as she lunged at him. He felt the knife strike in his chest and felt as it was dragged down from his chest to his loins.

"Esmeralda…"

He croaked in his final breath.

It had been a quiet day for the happy couple. They enjoyed lying on their bed and planning. She wanted to take a trip somewhere new and exciting, he too felt it would be nice to go away and not have to worry about anything for a while.


	30. Defying gravity

Thank you for the reviews!!!

I don't own the song…it's from the musical, Wicked. I don't own the characters, Hugo does.

Okay, as I am a BIG fan of head fakes, I put one in the last chapter. As such, a summary would give everything away. No summary this chapter. But, there is no sex and there is no violence in this chapter.

Preview: Somebody's in trouble/somebody gets arrested. Claude and Esme prepare for their trip. Isabeau wrestles with suicidal thoughts.

* * *

It must have been about three o'clock in the afternoon, when Fleur-De-Lys heard a knock at the door. She opened the door, expecting Phoebus.

"May I help you?"

Her voice was cold and condescending to the woman who stood before her.

"He told me to give this letter to you."

The dark haired girl gave Fleur-De-Lys a letter from Phoebus, then, she was gone. Fleur-De-Lys knew she had seen the girl somewhere before, but she could not remember precisely where from. Fleur-De-Lys opened the letter, thinking it was one saying that he would be reporting to a near by city and that he'd return in a few days or so. Instead, the letter told her where he was at that very moment.

* * *

Phoebus had not died, nor had he been horrendously tormented. He awoke, rubbing his head and feeling as though a thousand horses had trampled over him. The torture, the murder, the branding had all been a hallucination. Whatever his captor had poured into the wine, it had caused those terrifying hallucinations. Save for a few cuts, a few superficial wounds, he was alright. He felt his ankles, his heels, his hands and wrists. He looked in the mirror and saw a long cut from his ear to almost his jaw. Then, his mind turned from his wounds to his captor. The being had been female, she had dark hair and pale skin. And, that was all he could remember about her. He recognized her, he knew who she was and there was not a doubt in his mind that he was right. He stormed out of the small room and wandered down the flight of stairs. He now stood in the cathedral. The House of God seemed like an odd place to torment someone, however, everything now seemed odd. He didn't bother going to see a physician. He went straight to The Palace of Justice and burst in, demanding that he been seen immediately. Jehan tried to calm him down and see what was troubling him.

"Captain?"

He shouted, hearing Phoebus' voice and seeing the cuts on his face and chest.

"That woman tried to kill me again!"

Jehan didn't bother with asking, "what woman?" He knew who the captain was speaking about.

"Are you insane? That girl has been long dead. Her body rests in Montfaucon."

Jacques Charmolue interrupted, seeing the captain in such distress.

"Then she has either risen from the dead, or she truly is a witch."

"Calm down Phoebus!"

Charmolue nodded in agreement with Jehan.

"You sound like a mad man. Calmly tell us what happened."

Jehan let the captain take a few breaths before speaking again.

"That little gypsy demon kidnapped me, tied me up and gave me some horrible witch's brew to drink! The potion made me see things that were not really happening, but they felt more real than anything! I saw her holding a knife, plunging it into my chest and dragging it down to my loins."

Charmolue look at Jehan and Jehan at Charmolue.

"Neither of you will believe me? You both think I'm mad."

Both men looked at one another, forcing themselves not to nod or agree.

"Are you sure you were not just drunk?"

Jehan knew Phoebus too well.

"No, it was that demon gypsy Esmeralda! She has been masquerading for months now as the innocent little Agnes. I can prove it!"

Jehan snorted, wanting to laugh.

"Phoebus, the gypsy has been dead for quite sometime. I am sure that someone would be kind enough to take you to see the body…although, it has probably decomposed by now. And Agnes has nothing to do with the little gypsy girl. Agnes, my friend's wife, has been with my friend, Claude-Pierre Francois most of the day. The only time he left her side was when he went to give your wife a lesson."

"The little witch and Agnes are one in the same. And isn't it odd how your brother, Claude and the man she married each share that name? No, it is not odd. He is your brother."

Charmolue looked at Jehan, whose face had gone completely white.

"You are a mad man!"

Jehan whispered with malice laced words.

"Young man, I suggest you leave. Jehan, you have a bit of explaining to do."

Charmolue led the captain outside, then turned back to Jehan.

Jehan prepared for the worst.

"He is your brother."

Jehan felt every fiber of his body shake.

"What are you going to do?"

"As far as anyone in Paris is concerned, the gypsy witch is dead. There is nothing I can do as far as that case goes."

Jehan felt relieved that nothing could be done against his brother and Agnes.

"I can, however, have her arrested."

Charmolue looked Jehan dead in the eyes with absolute sincerity.

"What proof do you have that it was she?"

Charmolue chuckled and Jehan could feel the loathing and darkness behind such a laugh.

"You misunderstand. What need do I have of proof?"

Jehan pursed his lips, fighting back everything he wanted to say and stormed out. He knew that he had to find Agnes and Claude. He felt it was his duty to warn them. He flew to their house, only to find the captain standing at their doorstep, sword in hand.

Jehan noted how the man knocked on the door. He prayed that no one would answer, but God did not seem to be in the mood to grant such requests.

"Where is she?"

Claude had answered and Phoebus held the tip of his sword to the man's throat.

"Where is that damned whore? Was one attempt on my life not enough for her?"

Claude gulped, knowing that the captain wanted to kill him. Claude wanted to instruct Esmeralda to stay back, to not come near the door. He feared that Phoebus would kill her.

"Sheath your sword! Your fight is not with him."

Phoebus turned to see Jehan.

"What? Come to protect your brother and the little gypsy harlot? Let me guess, she gave you a little romp so that you would keep quiet for them."

Without thinking, Jehan drew a cutlass and rushed toward the captain. Claude slammed the door shut and ushered Esmeralda into the kitchen where there were no windows or doors. He made her crouch under the table with him and only whispered, letting her know to keep quiet.

"What's happening?"

Her voice had never sounded so concerned.

"I'm not sure."

Claude had rushed away from the scene too quickly to see what was going on. But, outside, Jehan lay injured and Phoebus felt his arms being yanked behind his back. Jehan had not even touched the captain with the cutlass. He had drawn it only as a threat, as if trying to reason with him. He had not expected Phoebus to lunge at him for the kill.

Meanwhile, Isabeau had returned home. She began rinsing her hands before chopping vegetables. Her hands were red and disgusting. She had been too busy to notice the disturbance outside her door.

"Claude, is it safe now?"

Esmeralda asked as Claude stood up.

"Stay here. I will go look."

He went to the door and peered outside. He saw his brother lying there, watched as assistants to the physician lifted him and carried him away.

"What happened?"

He ran to a bystander to see what had gone on.

"The captain stabbed him, but he should be alright. His wound needs to heal, and that will take some time."

Claude nodded.

"Claude-Pierre Francois?"

It was a familiar voice that had asked for him.

"Yes, I am he."

It was an odd charade, but Claude went along with pretending not to know the man before him.

"My name is Jacques Charmolue and I have it on good authority that your wife, Agnes Francois had something to do with this. May I step inside to question her?"

"Yes, of course."

Claude didn't see what his wife had to do with any of this, but he obliged.

He led Charmolue into the parlor and asked him to wait. Charmolue took a seat in an arm chair, while Claude went to retrieve Esmeralda.

"The captain stabbed Jehan. I am not certain why, but for some reason Jacques Charmolue wishes to speak with you. He is waiting in the parlor."

Claude led her into the parlor, but knew he would at some point be asked to leave.

"Young lady, as I know who you are, we shall not deal in formalities."

Esmeralda nodded in agreement.

"What has she done?"

Claude questioned anxiously.

"Today the captain, with cuts on his face and chest stormed into The Palace of Justice, barking like a mad man that you had kidnapped him and given him some potion which caused him to hallucinate."

She shook her head.

"Not I sir. I was here all day."

"Let me finish."

Charmolue hated being interrupted.

"He wanted me to have you arrested. Do you have any proof that you were here all day?"

Claude stood, ready to defend her.

"She was. I do not like her being out of this house without an escort, as the captain has made numerous attempts to woo her."

Charmolue wanted to hear Esmeralda speak.

"Claude, leave us."

He grew tired of Claude butting in. Claude nodded and went to their bed chamber to wait.

* * *

Seeing that they were alone Charmolue stood and advanced toward the chair Esmeralda was sitting in. He stroked her cheek gently and then began to speak.

"You are quite lovely. Yes, I can see why Claude felt bewitched by you and why the captain would want to have you."

Esmeralda saw a familiar look in his eyes. She recognized it as the same look Claude would have every so often, before they were married.

"Tell me dear girl, do you love the captain?"

He began caressing the hair on the right side of her head, pushing it back behind her ear, bringing a few strands up to his nose and letting the scent waft to his nostrils.

"sir I am married and you are making me uncomfortable."

Seeing the discomfort play out on her face was like a game to him. He smirked, watching her try and turn away.

"Answer the question. Are you in love with the captain?"

She did not understand what that had to do with anything.

"Sir, why does that matter?"

He chuckled, releasing the strands of hair.

"You did once. I remember. Yes, you sat in the chair before me, swearing and pledging your love for him. If you do not love him, then that will not be in your favor."

She released a ragged breath before replying.

"I loved him once. I now love Claude."

Charmolue let his hand slide down to her neck.

"What made you change your mind, my dear?"

She did not like this method of questioning.

"The captain never loved me."

"And that was your motive?"

She hardly understood how him not loving her was a motive for anything.

"Motive? A motive for what?"

"For kidnapping the captain and causing him to go mad."

It seemed obvious to him what the charge was.

"I have never attempted to harm the captain in any way."

She felt a heat rise to her face. She felt hatred for this man, she felt as though he had done more wrong than she.

"So, then it was Claude the first time, who tried to kill Phoebus?"

His hand slid down to her shoulder, but not in a friendly manner. A "yes" answer would mean Claude would be arrested and a "no" answer would mean nothing.

"No. it was The Phantom Monk."

Charmolue laughed quietly.

"Then, yes, it was Claude. But, there is little the court can do now. You were charged with that crime and you died in prison. It would not look good for any of us, if we were to now step forward and say that Claude did it. What would people think?"

He began rubbing her shoulder, massaging it a little. He could feel how tense she was and wanted to alleviate the symptom as much as possible.

"What are you going to do?"

She was frightened that this man might still have her husband arrested.

"I need to speak to Claude alone."

He replied, looking down at her chest.

"You are quite lovely, Claude should be glad for that."

With that, Charmolue stood and went to find Claude. Esmeralda sat, stunned and unsure of what his last words had to do with any charges against herself, or Claude.

Charmolue entered the bed chamber.

"You are a very lucky man, Claude."

He closed the door behind him.

"Though, as lucky as you are, she is the prime suspect in this case."

Claude did not see what charges there could be against his wife.

"I am, however, willing to over look your wife's involvement with the captain…"

"You have no proof that it was my wife. It could have been any woman with dark hair!"

Claude wanted to slam him against the wall and choke him until he dropped any charges against Esmeralda.

"Ah, but the captain distinctly remembers it being her."

"The captain was hallucinating. It could have been any girl with dark hair."

Charmolue was not backing down.

"I am not such a terrible man that I would not give her a chance to live. I am a reasonable man."

Claude knew for a fact that he was not.

"She was once a gypsy, correct?"

Claude nodded.

"I would wager that she had at least one hundred customers."

Claude was outraged at the fact that this man was calling his wife a whore.

"No."

"Perhaps a few less…"

Claude stood, cornering Charmolue.

"She had none. She had none, and she will not have you. If you are insinuating that the only way to drop whatever charges are against is if she pleasures you, then the answer is: NO!"

Charmolue smirked and began to chuckle again.

"She is quite beautiful Claude. How many times a night does she let you have her? You say she was virtuous until marriage? How did it feel that first time?"

Charmolue laughed at Claude's reaction. Claude stood there, taking everything.

"I'll even wager that she felt a little sore the morning after. There is quite a difference between a woman feeling a little sore for a short while and a woman feeling very sore for a long while."

Claude moved to strangle him, but Charmolue stepped to the side.

"Think about my offer."

With that Charmolue left.

* * *

It was early in the evening. Isabeau watched as her husband was brought in by the physician and some assistants.

"Jehan, are you alright?"

She asked with worry and dread.

"Yes. The captain lunged at me and tore a few layers of flesh."

He noticed something dark beneath her nails.

"Is that blood?"

He questioned, grabbing her hand.

"That is blood. I see no cuts. Is this Emilee's blood?"

He was a concerned father.

"No."

Isabeau felt herself beginning to crumble.

"Dark hair and pale skin."

Jehan whispered, looking up at his wife.

"It is the captain's blood."

* * *

Just as a warning, the next chapter will have a sex scene.


	31. You Can't Understand How I Could Kill

The song is owned by Charlotte Sometimes, the characters are owned by Hugo.

Thank you all for the reviews.

Okay, I know I promised another sex scene...there will be one, just not in this chapter. Originally this chapter was supposed to be REALLY long...so I broke it up into 2 chapters. So, next chapter there should be a sex scene.

Summary: Isabeau confesses. Charmolue makes an arrest.

yes, there are certain parts of this chapter which are sexual...

Preview: Esme sees that Claude is safe. Charmolue still wants Esme. Fleur goes to The Palace of Justice and shows Jehan the letter.

* * *

Isabeau looked down at Jehan. He was lying in their bed, holding onto her hand.

"Is this the captain's blood?"

She could see the anger in his eyes.

"Yes."

She did not feel the need to lie to him.

"I was just stabbed by the captain, because I was protecting Agnes. Phoebus swore that it was Agnes who had kidnapped and drugged him. And now I find out that it was you."

Isabeau shook, knowing that what she had done was wrong and yet, she had no explanation for it. She barely even remembered doing the act.

"Charmolue is hoping to arrest Agnes for what you have done!"

"Jehan, you act as though I am against confessing to the crime!"

She wanted the captain to know it was her and not Agnes. She wanted him to know that he had a child. She wanted to bring him down.

"Then fine, go and confess."

Jehan became stoic. He did not like her attitude. He did not know what was going on inside her head and that scared him to some degree.

She walked out of the house. She hoped to first tell Claude and Esmeralda the truth, before going to confess before a court. She had no idea of how to begin such a conversation, but was certain it should begin with her knocking on their door.

"Isabeau?"

Claude had answered and was looking into her frightened eyes.

"I…I…"

He let her in, helping her to a chair.

"I kidnapped the captain."

The direct approach seemed to be the easiest.

"You? But, why?"

Claude could not understand why she would do such a thing.

"The captain was my first, but not by choice. He was also my first customer. He is also Emilee's father."

Claude began to understand more and more the reason why Isabeau would do something so rash.

"Revenge."

Claude stated, watching her agree.

"I wanted to kill him."

Claude understood how someone could want to kill Phoebus.

"Yes, well, that makes two of us."

This statement made Isabeau smile a little.

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted him to suffer slowly, rather than have that instant satisfaction. I wanted his wife to find out about his daughter, I wanted him to be brought down. Killing him would have been to good an end for such a man."

Claude placed an arm around her shoulders in a somewhat brotherly manner.

"Yes, but by killing him he would never have been able to go to Charmolue and Jehan."

These were pearls of wisdom from someone who knew better.

"I gave his wife a letter. In the letter, I gave her his whereabouts and that the child was his."

Claude pulled her close. He cared about Isabeau, after all, she was now his sister in law.

"You wanted to hurt her as well?"

"Yes."

Claude saw that as a bad move.

"Did you deliver the letter?"

"Yes."

A really bad move.

"She probably suspects that it was you."

Isabeau hoped that Fleur-De-Lys remembered her. She hoped that Fleur-De-Lys was the key to ruining Phoebus.

"Claude, who was at the door?"

Agnes finally appeared and greeted Isabeau. She let Isabeau explain the truth before speaking.

"What does Jehan think of all of this?"

"He knows what I have done, but not why. I fear that it will be too difficult to try and explain it to him. I will go to The Palace of Justice tomorrow."

Esmeralda felt relived and at the same time worried for Isabeau. She even offered to let Isabeau stay the night, but she refused. She wanted to go home and talk things out with Jehan.

* * *

It was growing late. Claude was becoming weary. He did not want to deal with anyone else's problesm today. He wanted to get some sleep. He sat at his desk, reading, when the words of Charmolue began replaying themselves over and over in his head.

"Claude."

Esmeralda had sauntered in, wearing only a small bed sheet to cover her chest and womanhood. She had watched Claude for sometime and figured that making love would take his mind off of whatever had been troubling him.

"What is it Esmeralda?"

He didn't even bother paying any attention to her tone, or looking up.

"I thought that maybe we could go to bed together tonight. Perhaps we could discuss going away some more?"

She pouted, wanting so badly for him to look at her.

"The morning would be better."

He replied, turning the page and still not looking at her. She decided that some form of action needed to be taken against this book that so captivated his attention. She sat on the desk, just beside the book.

"What are you reading?"

He voice was too sultry for him not to notice. She leaned down, placing a hand over a few words. Finally Claude looked at her.

"Esmeralda, please…"

As much as he enjoyed the site of her barely covered chest and private area, he did not have the strength to take her tonight.

"Esmeralda, I am sorry. I'm not feeling well this evening."

Under any other circumstances, Claude would have already torn the sheet away and have her positioned beneath him on the desk.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She wanted him to feel better, after all, it was her duty as his wife to make him feel better.

"No. You are not the reason for this headache, it is Charmolue."

She looked at him and he saw the confusion in her eyes.

"Esmeralda, do you see making love to me as a chore?"

It seemed like an odd question, considering that she was the one who had come to him wearing nothing, but a bed sheet.

"No, quite the contrary. I wish we could make love more often. Do you?"

"No. In all honesty, if I did not have this headache, we would be doing so right now."

"On the morning after we first made love, how sore did you feel?"

This seemed like a strange question to her.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

She asked.

"Charmolue mentioned it earlier."

He rubbed his temples.

"I felt very sore and the soreness did not go away until a few days after. Why? Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Obviously it's supposed to mean something, I just don't know what."

She stood, walked behind Claude's chair and began massaging his shoulders and neck.

"I do not like that man."

"Did he say something to you?"

Esmeralda saw the anger grow in Claude's eyes.

"He told me I was quite lovely. He caressed my cheek, my hair, my neck and shoulders. I did not like it. The only time I like it when a man does those things is when it is you doing them."

Claude smiled, glad that she enjoyed his touches.

"He talked to you. What did he say?"

Claude did not know how to tell her that Charmolue had proposed that he let him have his wife.

"He told me that he would be willing to drop any charges against either of us, but only if…"

He didn't want to say it. Telling her what Charmolue had said might make him appear to want to go along with such a plan. Claude would never let another man touch Esmeralda in that manner, with or without her consent!

"But, only if you let him have his way with you."

At these words, she immediately stopped comforting her husband.

"I told him 'no.' I will stick by that answer. He can do his worst in torturing me, but I will never let him so much as touch you again!"

He felt her slide into his lap. She gave him a passionate and deep kiss, telling him that if he changed his mind about taking her, she would be in their bed chamber waiting. He wrapped his arms around her, not wanting her to leave, but knowing there was much to be thought out.

"I will join you soon."

He called out after her.

Claude sat there, pondering many things. He thought about Charmolue's other questions. He thought about what his first time with Esmeralda had really been like. He remembered how clueless he felt and how he just wanted her to be satisfied with him. He thought about how she had felt, physically and how not much had changed. She was still small and always seemed sodden, which made making love to her even more enjoyable. Her skin was still soft and free of blemishes and her hair had only become softer and appeared darker in contrast to her now light skin. His mind travelled from her lovely skin and hair to her bosom. Her breasts were in proportion to the rest of her body; they did not seem too large, or small. Over the past year, they did seem to have grown a bit. They were so round and firm and it amazed him at how erect her nipples became when she and he were making love. He fondly remembered the first time she had been on top and how it was almost painful to watch those fine orbs bounce. He suddenly felt himself harden, while thinking about her. She had just asked him to make love to her and she had been disappointed with the fact that he had said, "no." He loved the fact that she wanted him and no other. He realized that his headache was gone and got up and walked into their bed chamber.

* * *

"Esmeralda?"

He whispered, hoping she was still awake and that she still wanted to make love. At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head, letting him know that she was still awake. Without hesitation he began unlacing his hoisiers. She sat up, not bothering to cover herself. She wanted Claude to see her bare chest, as it always had the same effect on him; it always served to arouse him. Once fully undressed, he joined her in the bed.

"I knew you would change your mind."

She said, smiling as he kissed her lips. As she was pregnant and Claude did not want to harm their unborn child, he made sure that she was either on top, or leaning over something.

She was warm and soft and when she blushed, her entire body seemed to turn the lightest tint of pink. It was a feminine glow, one that he loved seeing.

"Mmmm Esmeralda?"

Tonight he was more interested in holding her close, as he felt that at any moment she could easily be gone.

"What is it?"

She asked, kissing his neck.

"What did it really feel like for you when we first made love?"

It seemed like a strange question for him to ask.

"It felt strange at first and a little painful. I was unsure of what to do exactly, but I wanted to make you happy."

She replied, placing a hand on his cheek.

Claude smiled, he was happy that he was not the only one who had felt incredibly clueless.

"You said you wanted to go somewhere, where do you want to go?"

She questioned, lying back down on the bed.

"I don't know. I just want to find someplace warm, where we can be alone for a few days."

He didn't care if, or when they went, he just wanted to be alone with her and without any stress for a few days.

"We'll have to wait. If we leave now, Charmolue will suspect something."

He took hold of her, kissing her head, reassuring her that he would let nothing happen to her.

* * *

It was early in the morning and Isabeau lay awake. She had not slept at all that night. She was still thinking about how she should broach the subject of why she wanted to hurt Phoebus.

"Jehan?"

She shook her husband's shoulder, immediately waking him.

"Is something wrong with Emilee?"

His daughter seemed to be the only thing that concerned him at three in the morning.

"You wanted to know why I tried to kill the captain. I know why I did so, but I'm not sure if you'll understand the reason."

Jehan turned to face her.

"I…When I was younger, he forced himself on me. He was the first man I ever had and…"

Jehan saw the difficulty she was having with this topic.

"I went to his cousin's home, as I knew he often stayed there when he was in Paris. I told them what had happened and I was led away. I could not find decent work, so I had to become a prostitute. Phoebus was my first customer."

Jehan heard the rocky intonation of his wife's voice and he sensed that she would break into sobs.

"Isabeau…"

His voice was full of adoration and concern for her.

"I wanted him to know that he had a child by me. I wanted his wife to know. I wanted him to have to deal with something he could never escape. I wanted to kill him, but I would rather have him suffer every day of his life, than be provided with the comfort of a speedy death."

Jehan placed his arms around her, letting her know that he would be there for her.

"These scars here," she pointed to the scars on her inner wrists. "These are not from any man. I did this. There have been many times, when I have hated myself for wanting to kill him, for letting him win."

Jehan kissed her, unsure of how he should react.

Morning had come quickly and Isabeau was awake, making her way to The Palace of Justice. The honorable men must have been too busy to hear a confession today, as no one would listen to her.

"Master Charmolue."

She had recognized him as a friend of her husband.

"Yes, what is it?"

His eyes were stern and steady.

"I have come here to confess to a crime."

She was preparing herself for the worst possible sentence.

"And, what crime would that be?"

"I tried to murder that captain."

Her voice was unfaltering.

"Young lady, please do not waste my time. The captain has already told me exactly who his tormentor was and you are not she."

This seemed unreal to her. She was being honest and had come alone to confess her crime and he was telling her that she was not the woman who had committed the act.

"Who is it then?"

The thought of an innocent being charged with her crime made her sick to her stomach.

"A young woman who goes by the name of, Agnes Francois."

Isabeau felt her skin grow pale.

"No."

She whispered, almost unable to believe what she had just been told.

"Has she confessed to it?"

"No, we have not charged her yet. The captain swears that it was she, and she has no real alibi for where she was yesterday in the late morning."

"Thank you."

Isabeau replied and made haste to Claude and Agnes' home.

"Phoebus has named Agnes as the one who tried to kill him."

She wasted no time in letting Claude know what was going on.

"I went to The Palace of Justice today and confessed, but Charmolue told me that Phoebus had already named your wife as the girl."

* * *

While Isabeau explained what had happened with Charmolue, Fleur-De-Lys was watching Phoebus saunter into their home.

"What will you do?"

She asked, rereading the letter Isabeau had given her.

"She attempted to kill me. I am not the one at fault here, I am an innocent man."

"Who did you name as the girl who tried to kill you?"

Phoebus tried to snatch the letter away from his wife, but she pulled her arm back.

"That little Agnes girl. She is the little gypsy slut who tried to kill me before. It only makes sense that she would try and finish the job."

Fleur-De-Lys shook her head in disagreement.

"You are wrong."

Phoebus chuckled. He was never "wrong."

"It was not her. Phoebus, it was that girl Jehan married."

Phoebus looked at his wife, puzzled.

"She is the one…"

"I know who she is and I do not need you to constantly remind me of how she seduced me."

His voice was snide and crawled with slime.

"I have long suspected that you were not the one being led astray, but I have kept quiet until now."

Fleur-De-Lys may not have liked Esmeralda and she even admitted to being jealous of her beauty, but she could not stand to let someone innocent of a crime be sentenced for something they did not do.

"If you will not do what is right, then I will."

She folded the letter and placed it in her bodice. She stood, ready to leave and make things right.

"It is laughable how you think that you can change what has already been done. By now, she has already been arrested."

Fleur-De-Lys walked over to the door.

"If you will not set things right, then I will."

With that, she left.

* * *

It was true, Agnes had been arrested, once again for the attempted murder of Captain Phoebus De Chateaupers. This time the questioning was different. Charmolue alone stood before her. They were at his home, in his bed chamber.

"Now my dear, your husband may have been a little hasty in his reaction to this, but I am sure you will be more rational."

He smiled, lustfully.

"I will not have you."

She wanted those bitter words to wound him.

"Tell me, Agnes, do you enjoy making love?"

She shook, not knowing how to answer such a question. In all honesty, she enjoyed the act very much. She liked feeling Claude's fully erect cock thrust between her legs, the feeling was indescribable! She savored his warm touches and often told him where to place his hands to make the act of copulation even better. She would swoon loudest, when his hands gently squeezed her breasts. She took notice at what made him the most satisfied; she would kiss him, using her tongue to add to the pleasure. She often wanted him to take her three or four times a night. She couldn't get enough of him. But he had been the only one with the privilege of making love to her.

"I love my husband, if that is what you mean."

"No. Answer the question: Do you enjoy making love?"

She did not want to answer such a question, but feared what might happen if she did not.

"In general, yes. But, Claude is the only man I have ever had and he is the only man I want to make love to."

In her opinion, there could be no other man better at pleasuring her than Claude.

"I see. Tell me, Agnes, would you abstain if he were to die, or perhaps fall too ill to please you in bed?"

She shivered, almost certain that Charmolue had done something to her Claude.

"What have you done to him?"

"Answer my question girl!"

It took a moment for her to find an answer that she could be pleased with.

"If he were to die, then perhaps I would remarry. So, to answer your question: No, I would not abstain if he were to die."

This answer seemed to spark something in Charmolue.

"What would you do to keep your husband from death?"

It was a stone cold question, which rang in her ears. She would do anything to keep Claude from death and Charmolue knew it. But, had he sentenced Claude to death? Had her husband been tortured? She needed assurance that Claude was safe.

"I know you would."

Charmolue whispered into her ear, his raspy voice frightening her.

"I want to see him. Take me to wherever he is, I want proof that he has not been harmed."

She was playing right into his hands.

"My dear, Claude has not been arrested. He had nothing to do with this second attempt on the captain's life."

She felt her heart blasting from her chest.

"I want to see him."

She remained cold to Charmolue.

"He is safe. He is probably home trying to find someway to have the charges dropped."

Esmeralda knew he was.

"I want you to take me to him. I will not believe you otherwise."

"Ha! Clever shrew."

Charmolue offered his hand to the girl, but she declined. She let him lead her out of the house. It did occur to her, several times that day, how easy it would be to kill him. Chances were that no one had known where he had taken her and no one would ever guess that she had done it. But, if he was lying and if Claude was in some cell somewhere, chances were that Charmolue was the only one who knew of his whereabouts.


	32. You Must Love me

The song is from Evita, the characters from Hugo.

Yes, a semi-graphic and violent chapter awaits.

Summary: Claude is safe, but Esme is not. Charmolue is a bad man.

Preview: Aftermath. A few months pass and Esme gives birth. Phoebus makes an attempt on Claude's Life.

* * *

Claude heard the knock on the door. He assumed it would be jehan with news about Esmeralda's sentence.

"Come in."

He said, opening the door. Almost immediately Esmeralda threw her arms around him, tears in her eyes. Then Claude saw Charmolue.

"You see plainly that I have not let any harm come to him."

Claude kept his arms, protectively around his wife.

"What have you done to her?"

Claude's voice was full of anger. He wanted to pummel Charmolue to a bloody pulp.

"Nothing, you have my word."

A sinister grin overtook Charmolue's face and Claude did not believe him. Charmolue grabbed hold of Esmeralda's shoulder and turned her away from Claude.

Claude had no words of comfort for the poor girl. He wanted to say something, but he, as always seemed to not know what was appropriate. He would go to The Palace of Justice and get to the bottom of things. All he could do now was hope that Charmolue did not compromise his wife's honor.

* * *

Charmolue escorted Esmeralda back to his home.

"You want to keep your husband alive and unharmed?"

Esmeralda nodded, silently.

"Then you will do as I say."

She shook her head, negatively, on the verge of tears.

"You see, you have no choice my dear. If you do not want me to arrest him for masquerading as the Phantom Monk and attempting to kill the captain the first time, then you will do everything I say."

He began, unlacing his doublet.

Esmeralda hated this idea. She sat, huddled on the bed, praying that Claude would come to her rescue. She turned away from Charmolue in disgust.

"Claude."

Her voice wasn't audible to this terrible man, but she whispered his name in hopes that he would rush in and run Charmolue through.

She felt his hands rip her dress open and a draft on her back. He saw her fine, sand colored skin and caressed her shoulders. She could feel him press his lips to the back of her neck and shoulders.

"Claude."

She was unable to control her sobs and Charmolue heard her call out for her husband. With rough, bruising hands he grabbed her, forcing her to face him. She tried to cover herself. In shame, she tried to hide her flesh from his penetrating glance.

"You will not mention his name."

He spoke, forcing gentility into his voice. But, it was a false gentility and frightened her even more.

He let his hand wander from her cheek down to her collarbone. He smiled with satisfaction at the fear in her eyes. He liked feeling her shake, having her crushed and in his captivity. He leaned forward to kiss her soft lips, but she fought to turn away. He grabbed her chest, squeezing her too hard. He was not loving, or gentle like Claude. He was hurtful and only cared for his own wants.

She felt his hand spread her legs apart. She tried to bat his hand away, screaming in fright.

"You will scream even louder than that my dear."

"NO!"

She reached up and drug her nails across his face, drawing blood.

"Little whore!"

He sat up, ready to slap her. One hit one surely knock her out cold. He took a moment to rethink that action and decided that having her conscious and being able to see her lovely face than unconscious and unable to react. Instead, he pressed her onto the bed, violently and rammed himself into her.

"NO! STOP!"

* * *

For the next hour she did not feel anything. She did not feel love, or hate. She did not scream, nor did she look at him. She numbed herself to him and everything he did to her. From time to time she would feel herself sob. She thought only about Claude and how much she loved him. She thought of what he would think of her. Would he still want her after this? No, he would not. He would blame her for this and he would never want to touch her again. And would she want him to touch her? No, she would not. She could feel Charmolue's teeth nip at her chest and naval, she could feel his nails digging into her thighs. It was the most painful experience of her life. She wanted to end it. She wanted to end everything.

Jehan arrived with Fleur-De-Lys at Claude's home.

"Brother, she has something here that will change everything."

Jehan showed Claude the letter.

"Charmolue arrested her already."

Jehan nodded, gravely.

"He has not been at The Palace of Justice all day. I have not seen him."

Claude found this odd. If Charmolue was charging this girl with an attempt to kill Phoebus, then would he not do so in court?

"He was here earlier. He brought Esmeralda to see me. It seemed that she wanted to be sure I was safe."

Claude tried to think of where Charmolue could be.

"Is he at his home?"

Fleur-De-Lys at last spoke up.

"I will go check. Where is your wife Jehan?"

Claude asked, before opening the door.

"She is home, waiting…"

Claude nodded and exited.

* * *

He took the quickest path to Charmolue's house. He dreaded finding Esmeralda there and prayed that he did not. He peered into each window, but found it strange that the bedroom curtains were closed. He went to the door, jiggling the handle. It opened, as it was unlocked. He needed a plan of action. He could not just rush in, kill Charmolue and carry Esmeralda off into the sunset. He quietly opened the bedroom door and saw Esmeralda, lying beneath the nefarious man. She had been sobbing and tears flowed down her cheeks. He thought quickly of what would catch her attention, without catching his. There was nothing he could do. She let her head fall, listlessly to the side and saw Claude. A wear smile crossed her lips.

"Please."

She whispered in agony.

Claude nodded, mouthing something to her.

"Keep him distracted."

She understood and nodded. She would have to pretend that this was enjoyable.

"Oh Jacques."

She sat up, wrapping her arms around him, being sure to keep him facing her. She passionately kissed him, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth.

Claude went back into the parlor and saw the decorative ropes that held the curtains back. He took both sets and quietly walked back into the bed chamber. Esmeralda was doing her part, being as loud as she could to keep Charmolue's attention.

Claude placed the ropes around the man's neck and twisted them until he released Esmeralda and grasped at the ropes. Esmeralda sat in shock as Claude strangled the man. Charmolue's complexion went from flesh toned to red, to slightly blue and to pale gray. At last Claude let go. He had no words for Esmeralda. He looked into her eyes, but did not see her. He tried to comfort her by placing his arms around her, but she turned away and would not allow him to touch her. She felt ill, she felt the ill feeling in her throat and mouth. Her body was responding to Charmolue by purging itself.

He had not shown up in time and he blamed himself for what had happened to her.

Esmeralda sat up on the bed, looking at her womanhood. Until this day, Claude had been the only one who had been granted access to that sacred garden and now she felt like damaged goods. She would not blame Claude for not wanting her as his wife now. But, for some reason he was not leaving.

"What are you still doing here?"

She was crying.

"I don't know. I'm just here, if you need me."

He sat in a chair at the foot of the bed.

He would let her cry for as long as she needed to. He would allow her to abuse him, to curse him, to hate him for as long as she needed, because in his heart he knew that she loved him and that all those words would be for Charmolue.

"Why?"

She thought it strange that he had not left and that he was willing to stay with her.

"You are my wife."

He said, as if it should have been obvious to her.

She dressed, slowly. She took time to sob and grimace at herself. When she was dressed, she left the room and the house. Claude followed closely behind. She had gone home and sat on their bed. She patted the space beside her, beckoning him to join her.

There were no words, as he placed his arms around her and let her cry into his chest.

"Please tell me that you still love me."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"Of course I still love you."

He just held her, letting her cry. He would stay this way, as long as she needed him to.

* * *

Jehan arrived home to Isabeau. He had told her what had happened.

"Is she alright?"

Isabeau sank into a chair.

"I don't know. But, I am the only one who knows that you are the one who drugged the captain. That is how it will stay. There were no charges brought against Agnes, the man was lying."

Isabeau was furious.

"What will happen to the captain?"

"His wife knows, that might be worse than any form of the King's justice."

He was trying to make her laugh. That was something she loved about Jehan, his humor.


	33. God is a DJ

As always, thanks for the reviews!!!

The song is owned by Pink, the characters by Hugo.

Yes, I know that I promised that Phoebus would attack Claude in this chapter, but that will be happening later on.

Summar: Phoebus is fuming. Charmolue isn't dead. Esme gives birth.

Preview: Phoebus attacks Claude.

I might not be on much after today, as I have to go in for a job offer at Wal*Mart tomorrow and it's for a full time job. But, I will try to update weekly.

* * *

Days and nights passed with Claude sleeping in the parlor. He wanted to sleep next to Esmeralda, but was afraid of what might happen if he did. Charmolue had attempted arresting Esmeralda and Claude, but that would mean he would stand trial for rape. She was no longer "Esmeralda," and trying to convince the court that the wife of a Latin instructor had seduced him. Isabeaau was not arrested either. Fleur-De-Lys decided to burn her letter, as her reputation depended on what Phoebus did. She could not let anyone know that he had fathered a child with a whore.

For three months Claude skirted around his wife, not wanting to reopen wounds and not wanting to bring up the topic of Charmolue. She would wake up in the middle of the night crying. Often times she would go into the parlor and lie next to Claude. She wanted him there, she wanted him to still show that he loved her.

"Claude, why don't you sleep in the bed with me?"

One night in particular, Esmeralda was feeling alone, but Claude did not know how to answer her.

"I want to."

He stated, as she lay down on the floor with him.

"It must be terribly uncomfortable down here."

She kissed his lips, lovingly. It was the first kiss they had shared in three months.

"I've missed you Claude."

He had not been himself these past few months.

"Agnes…I…"

She placed his hand on her belly.

"Three more months and you will be a father. Which are you hoping for, a boy or a girl?"

She asked, excitedly. She had decided that the best thing to do was forget about Charmolue. The more she thought about what he had done to her, the more power she had given him.

"A boy, of course!"

Esmeralda smiled, glad that he was speaking to her.

"Once we have the child, then can we go away someplace?"

She placed her head on his chest.

"Yes."

He smiled, glad that he could talk to her.

"I hope the child is a girl. I can teach her to sew and you can teach her to read and write."

She looked up into his eyes, happy that they were having a normal conversation.

"What will you name the child?"

Claude asked.

"I don't know."

"I was named after my father."

Claude said, snorting at how unoriginal his parents had been.

"I was also born on the same day as my father. Each day has it's own saint and often times parents name their children after the saint of that day."

He told her.

"So, it's tradition that the boys in your family are named 'Claude.' If this one is a boy, his name too will be Claude."

A small part of him liked the idea of having a tradition.

"And if the child is a girl?"

He asked.

"I do not know. Do mothers name their daughters after them?"

She questioned, unsure of how the naming traditions went.

"Yes. You will name the child 'Agnes' then?"

He questioned.

"No, I want to name her, 'Esmeralda.'"

Her old name would live on.

"So, Claude Jr. if the child is a boy and Esmeralda if the child is a girl."

That had been taken care of.

"I love you Claude."

She placed her arms around his neck and gave him another light kiss on the lips.

"I love you, Agnes."

He embraced her and stroked her hair.

* * *

Phoebus had had time to think things over. He hated the fact that Agnes had gotten away with tormenting him, he hated the fact that some harlot had born him a child. Fleur-De-Lys had barely spoken to him and would not allow him to sleep in the same room. He had ceased trying to woo Agnes. He was disgusted by her and the fact that she still loved Claude. He questioned how a priest could please her and he, Phoebus could not. Jehan had not spoken to him, in fact, Jehan hated the captain. Phoebus tried talking to his once dear friend, but Jehan would not see him. Things at court were no easier for Jehan. Charmolue would scowl at him and drop cases that Jehan had worked on. Charmolue would go to the Francois household on a weekly basis, in an attempt to threaten Agnes. Claude always seemed to intercept and cut him off at the door. Charmolue was unhappy to find out that the girl was pregnant. For a short time he thought that the child might be his. And those were unhappy thoughts. He attempted numerous times to put the girl and her unborn child in danger, but again, Claude always intercepted.

"You have done enough Jacques."

Claude spat at the man who stood on his doorstep.

"Is the child mine?"

Perhaps had Claude said, "yes," Chrarmolue might stop coming around.

"The child is mine, as is the girl."

Charmolue felt relief wash over him.

"Now, leave."

Claude began to close the door, but Charmolue placed his hand in the doorway.

"How strange. You would want a girl after she pleasured another man."

Charmolue mused, mocking Claude.

"As I remember it, Jacques, you raped her."

Seeing the hatred in Claude's eyes, Charmolue took a step back.

"Has she made love to you since?"

"She is pregnant."

Charmolue did not like where this conversation was headed. He wanted Claude to feel threatened and hurt by what he had done to his wife.

"Claude…"

Esmeralda had come into the parlor.

"Sweetness, go back into the bed chamber. I will join you soon."

Turning to her, Claude embraced her and gave her an exaggerated kiss. He wanted to show Charmolue that Esmeralda still loved him and that he still loved her.

"I can't."

Her breathing had become irregular and her skin had become ghostlike. She looked down at her belly.

"Jacques, get out of here!"

Claude slammed the door on his hand, not caring if it left his hand broken. Claude rushed Esmeralda back into the bed chamber and placed her on the bed.

"I'll tell Jehan to find a physician and a midwife."

Esmeralda sensed the panic in his voice. The child was coming early and neither one knew what to do.

"I'm scared!"

She shouted, not knowing what was happening. Claude rushed out of the house. He saw Charmolue standing there and wanted to rip him apart. Charmolue smiled, seeing that Claude was leaving the house. Claude dashed to his brother's house and found Isabeau.

"Find the physician and midwife. Bring them to my home."

He was out of breath and after telling her to get help he turned and ran back home.

The door had been left unlocked and the door to the bed chamber had been left open. Charmolue wandered in, freely. He smiled, knowing that the female was in his grasp. He locked the door behind him, so that no one else would be able to come in.

"Now my dear," he walked over to her, a devilish grin on his face. "I can finish what I started."

She was completely vulnerable now. Her child would be too. He approached her, placing a hand over her mouth. He felt her teeth bear into the flesh.

"DEMON!"

He pulled back and struck her.

He looked around and grabbed a pillow, thinking it would do the job.

She felt beneath her skirt, grabbing a dagger. The pillow went over her face, cutting off her air supply. The knife went deep into his throat. A few gasps and he released, stepping back in shock. A little fly had just struck this lethal spider.

She removed the pillow, shaking. She saw the man, drenched in blood and lying on the floor.

"Claude!"

She looked around, frantically. She shouted for her husband over and over again.

"I'm …"

He looked down and saw the bloody man at his feet. Claude would help her now and ask questions later. He shoved the body underneath the bed, hiding it. He allowed her to hold his hand, as he kneeled down next to her.

"The physician and midwife will be along shortly."

He reassured her.

The contractions had begun. She was frightened of what might happen.

She grunted in pain, squeezing Claude's hand and not wanting him to leave her side.

The physician and midwife arrived.

"She's three months early."

Claude stated, feeling the pain in his hand.

Both the physician and midwife nodded.

Isabeau assisted, getting blankets and warm water. After six hours of labor, six hours of pain for both Esmeralda and Claude, the child was born.

Esmeralda's head fell back and she released Claude's hand. Her eyes were blank and her breathing was shallow. He feared that she was not well.

"She is tired, let her rest."

The midwife assured him one child and Isabeau the other.

"A boy and a girl!"

Claude spoke, his voice joyous and far away. He wanted his wife to share in the joy, but she was exhausted. He would let her rest in the bed, until morning.

Morning had come. Claude brought the babies into the bed chamber, so they could meet their mother.

Esmeralda looked around in a panic.

"He was here! He was here and he tried to kill me and the babies!"

Claude knew who she was referring to.

Claude pulled the bloody mass out from under the bed.

"I killed him?"

She had not seen where the dagger had hit.

Claude handed his wife the children and he set to work, wrapping the body in blankets. He thought quickly about what to do. He would burn the body. No evidence could be left behind. No one would be able to question where the man had been, no fingers would be pointed at Claude or Agnes. After the deed was finished, Claude returned to his wife.

"I am sorry if I hurt you."

She apologized for squeezing his hand so tightly.

"Are you feeling well?"

She nodded.

"Claude-Maurice and Esmeralda."

She looked into Claude's eyes, telling her husband the names she had chosen.

He kissed her lips, happy that she was rested.

"Claude," she smiled, looking oddly sensual. "When will we be able to make love again?"

Claude gazed down at his wife, adoring the fact that she still wanted to be his.

"The physician said that we should wait a couple of weeks."

He kissed her lips, enjoying their sweet taste.

"Every single attempt has been thwarted…"

* * *

Phoebus had gone to the Palace of Justice to talk with Jehan. He knew that Jehan could not leave, and decided that Jehan needed to hear his complaints.

"She should have been mine by now!"

Jehan said nothing, he barely even looked at the angry captain.

"Every plan has been thwarted by that meddling brother of yours."

Phoebus thought it was simple: get rid of Claude and Agnes would be his.

"I do not advise it."

Jehan would defend his brother and protect both Esmeralda and his niece and nephew.

"What my brother feels for her is more powerful than your passing desires."

Phoebus knew that Claude was the former Archdeacon, so there was no sense in trying to cover it up now.

"And just what can he give her that I cannot?"


	34. A Little Glass Vial?

Hey all, thanks for the reviews! Work is going well so far.

Yes, I know...I keep promising the big confrontation between Claude and Phoebus...that will be next chapter.

Nope, I don't own these lyrics...they are from the movie rock opera, Repo! The Genetic Opera. The lytics are from the song, Zytrate Anatomy. I also don't own the characters...Hugo does.

Summary: Phoebus formulates a plan...two plans actually, to get Esme to be his. He enlists someone close to Esme to help.

Preview: Claude and Jehan confront Claude. Fleur watches as her husband unravels. Phoebus attacks Claude. Esme falls into a semi-conscious state and reality gets blurred.

* * *

"The answer is, everything; he has given her everything and he will continue to be the one who does so. There is nothing you can give her, as you are not her husband."

Jehan spoke with sincerity.

"Phoebus, I wish to no longer be part of your grand scheme in winning her over. Do not seek me out for help, as you will receive none!"

Jehan growled, loathing the captain.

An evil smirk crossed Phoebus' lips.

"Ah, but she could be! She could be my wife and I could be her husband!"

Jehan feared how the captain would orchestrate such a thing, but still felt the need not to know.

"You harm him to get to her and I swear, my face will be the last you see."

Jehan grabbed Phoebus' collar and held a small dagger to his throat to emphasize his point. The captain looked up at his former friend, terrified and uncertain of whether or not he should speak.

Not wanting to go too far, Jehan released him.

"It will take very little to sway her."

With that Phoebus left.

Phoebus was aware of the fact that he would have to go through not only Claude, but also Esmeralda's children. He knew that he could not harm the children, as she would hate him if he were to. He would have to make Claude's death appear to be an accident and yet, he could not get too close to Claude. Phoebus could not attack him head on, or out in the street. No, this had to be a private and isolated attack. It had to be an attack Claude would never expect. The attack could not come directly from him, it had to come from someone close to him, someone he cherished. The attack would come from inside his very home and from his wife. But who to get such a weapon into such charming hands? He pondered giving it to her as a gift, but giving it to her directly would serve as a costly error. She would surely refuse the "gift." He thought about giving it to Jehan, Isabeau, or even Fleur-De-Lys. Jehan now hated him, Isabeau bore him a child and Fleur-De-Lys would not speak to him. Getting the item of destruction into those lovely hands would serve difficult. And too, what exactly would the weapon be, a dagger? That would be too obvious. He could use poison, but how would he get her to make sure Claude drank it? Esmeralda would never poison he beloved husband! He could disguise the poison as something else; an elixir or tonic perhaps, but who could he trust to sell it? He had to find some weakness between Esmeralda and Claude, or at the very least, something that made Claude violently ill. He had to find a way to get such an item into her hands and allow her to be the cause of his demise. And he, Phoebus would rush in, saving her life. He would be granted her body as his reward.

* * *

"You there!"

Phoebus shouted, pointing at a woman in the crowd.

"Come here."

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the spot just in front of him.

"I have kept quiet about your attempt on my life. It is time you repaid such a favor."

Isabeau marched up to him, slapping him across the face.

"I bore you a child, take that as repayment enough!"

She began to stomp away, leaving him to rub his cheek.

"Who do you think they will believe, an ex-whore, or a decorated solider?"

It was true, he could bring up the charges anytime he liked. The court would take his word over hers.

"I own you!"

He rushed over, grabbing her arm in a bruising fashion.

"You do as I say and I will stay quiet, however, if you do not, I will bring up the charges and have your husband dispatched."

She hated knowing that he could do as he pleased.

"Find me something to give Esmeralda…something that will kill Claude."

Isabeau shook her head, unable to fathom what this man was asking.

"No! Get some other girl."

She pulled away.

"Is it the killing which makes you weak? If it is, then find something that makes the man violently ill. All you need to do is deliver it to Esmeralda."

"Do it yourself!"

Phoebus rushed ahead, tripping her and causing her to fall.

"If I do, then I will also bring up charges against you! Stupid harlot! Do you not understand that I could have you hanged?"

He tossed down a small purse of coins. She sat in the street, the world walking by, crying. Was he right? Would she forever be some common prostitute? He paid her, as though she were.

* * *

Phoebus walked on, pondering a "plan B." If his first plan were to fail, either by that little Isabelle not doing her part, or by her telling Esmeralda what he had asked of her, he would have another plan of action. He would purchase something to make her feel inebriated, something to cloud her judgment. He purchased a little glass vial. It was green and only held a small amount of liquid. He would write a letter to the Francois family, requesting their company for a dinner and he would sign Fleur-De-Lys' name to it. While pouring the wine, he would add the liquid to her drink. He would be near by when she felt faint and carry her off to his bed chamber. She would feel the effects of lust and succumb to him.

The plan seemed to be going perfectly, until Fleur-De-Lys walked in. She tore the letter out from under his hand.

"And what is this? You are still after that girl?"

She shook her head. She was not sad, nor hurt. She was angry at him.

"If you are inviting them for dinner, then I shall invite a couple of my own friends to dinner."

She smiled, piecing together her own plan. She would catch him in every lie and all in one night. She noticed the small vial, in his hand.

"And what is that?"

"This? This is nothing."

"It is not 'nothing.' Tell me what that vial is for?"

Phoebus sighed, heavily and rolled his eyes.

"It is a small gift for Claude. Think of it as a peace offering for her."

It made more sense that Claude be the one to let Esmeralda play into his waiting hands.

"And what pray, thee is it?"

"It is nothing that concerns you. Who are you inviting to dinner?"

"No one that concerns you."

* * *

For the next few days Isabeau took note of everything Claude ate and drank. He would not eat anything too spicy, or drink more than one goblet of wine a day. She thought little of these habits, but Phoebus found them amusing.

"I have done my part."

"No. You have only done half of what I have asked of you."

He handed her a little glass vial, an orange one. It was a potent poison, one drop of which would render the consumer unconscious for days.

"Be sure to deliver this to Esmeralda. Tell her it is some cure for the fire her husband feels in his belly, when he eats spicy foods."

He waved her off, as though the request was nothing more than an average one.

Isabeau walked away, in tears. She returned home and saw Jehan, reading a letter.

"We have been invited to a dinner at the De Chateaupers household."

He said, flatly.

"We should attend."

She replied.

"What is this?"

He questioned, lifting her hand which held the orange vial.

"That…That is nothing."

She was on the verge of tears.

"And when did 'nothing' make you cry?"

She wanted to explain everything to him, but felt she could not.

"I…I stubbed my toe coming in."

He found her tears at such a light injury odd.

"What does this 'nothing' do?"

"It will relieve Claude of his stomach pains when he eats spicy foods."

It was the first time she had lied to him, since they were married. This was no little, ordinary lie. This was a large lie, one which could cost a man his life.

"Perhaps I should try some."

He still held her hand. He gently loosened the little glass vial from her hand.

"No."

She whispered, faintly. As much as she wanted him to hear, she did not want him to know why he should not drink the liquid.

He sipped the poison slowly. Isabeau immediately grabbed his shoulder, turned him to face her and kissed him. She squeezed his cheeks and sucked the poison from his mouth.

"I love you too much to let you die."

Tears teemed from her eyes, as she shook her head lightly.

She saw the questions in his eyes, but did not have time to react and address them. She stepped back and fell forward. Jehan quickly felt for her pulse and listened for her breathing. She was not dead. She was unconscious, and he did not know how long she would be so. He cradled her and carried her into their bed chamber. After setting her down, he suddenly realized that she had saved her life. He also realized that someone had to have given her that vial and that someone wanted Claude dead. He knew who that someone was. Jehan had called Claude over to have a look at Isabeau.

"She is fine. This potion should wear off in a few days. She did not drink nearly enough to cause her to die."

"She took the poison from my mouth, so that I would not die. Claude, this poison was meant for you!"

Claude's face took on an expression of shock.

"And why would she want me dead?"

"She does not want you dead. Phoebus wants you dead. He has something over her, I suspect he used it to talk her into using this."

He showed Claude the vial.

"And he thinks that by having your wife murder me, that will push mine into his arms?"

It sounded too odd to be true.

"I suppose…"

Jehan himself could not believe it.

"Tell me Claude, did you receive a letter from Fleur-De-Lys inviting you to dinner?"

"Yes."

"And do you plan on attending?"

"Perhaps. I have not had the chance to talk it over with Esmeralda, but it would be the best opportunity to confront the captain."

Claude sensed that the letter was a ploy to get him there.

"I take it you will be attending as well?"

"Yes. I wish to confront him as well. As he wishes to pursue another man's wife, he is no friend of mine. I do not know if the man has any other tricks up his sleeve, but be on your guard that evening. I will save this vial and present it that evening."

Jehan placed the vial in the left hand pocket of his coat.

"Isabeau should be alright that day. She will be well enough to attend the dinner."


	35. Just Like A Pill

Pink owns the song, Hugo the characters.

Work's going well, not much time off though...but that's a good thing. It keeps me busy!

Summary: Dinner party time. Phoebus drugs Agnes, Claude drugs Phoebus.

Preview: Claude gets Esmeralda home and watches as she comes out of her fantastic state. Phoebus' fantasy. The aftermath of Esmeralda's fantasy. (Phoebus haters are going to love this chapter!!!)

* * *

Claude had shown Esmeralda the invitation. She hated the idea of being in the same room with Fleur-De-Lys, let alone Phoebus. Claude had told his wife about what had happened with Isabeau and Jehan and how the poison was meant for him.

"My mother can stay with us for a few days and watch over the children that evening. Claude, what do you expect to gain from this dinner?"

Claude only wanted to show the captain that he and Esmeralda were happy and very much in love and that he should leave their family alone.

"Claude, you are not still jealous of him?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his lips.

In truth, he was still a bit jealous of the captain.

"No. Do you still think of him?"

"No."

She was able to shrug thoughts Phoebus off easily.

"Don't you want to confront him then?"

Claude kissed her forehead.

"I just want that man to leave us be. I do not understand why he pursues me still."

The only two people she loved more than Claude were her children; the children which were half her and half Claude. She left his side to check on them in the small room, which served as the nursery. She leaned over Claude-Maurice's cradle and heard him begin to cry. She knew both his cries and his sister's.

"You are hungry."

She gently lifted him, holding him close to her body. She peered into little Esmeralda's cradle.

"Are you hungry too?"

She whispered, not wanting to disturb her daughter.

Little Esmeralda, or "Esme" as her parents had begun to call her wriggled in response.

She moved her tiny fists to her eyes, attempting to rub them. She was not hungry, but she did want to be held.

"I will tell your father."

She carried Claude-Maurice into the library, where Claude sat.

"Esme wants to be held. Will you hold her, while I feed our son?"

"Of course."

He walked into the nursery and gathered his daughter in his arms. He constantly marveled at how small she was. He counted each finger and each toe.

"Hello little one."

His voice was soft and kind.

"Did you sleep well?"

She wiggled and cooed, smiling up at him. When she smiled, she looked so much like her mother.

"Your grandmother will be visiting you soon. You haven't met her yet. She's very much like your mother."

Esmeralda was standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation.

"She'll be here tomorrow morning. Mommy and daddy will be going to a dinner party with some…um…friends."

He couldn't think of any other word for what Phoebus and Fleur-De-Lys were in front of his daughter.

"He wasn't hungry."

Esmeralda made herself known.

"I tried to get him to eat, but he turned away. "

Claude looked down at his son. Claude-Maurice always seemed hungry. He placed a hand on the child's forehead.

"He does feel a bit warm."

Esmeralda nodded in agreement.

"You feel it too? Is Esme alright?"

Claude felt his daughter's forehead.

"No, she feels normal. When was the last time they ate?"

"Well, Claude-Maurice ate a few hours ago and Esme ate this morning."

It was the usual schedule. Esme would only eat a few times a day, but Claude-Maurice would want to be fed every couple of hours.

"Let me see him."

Esmeralda handed their son to her husband and she took Esme.

Claude gently rubbed his son's belly, thinking that the boy might have a stomach ache.

"Shh shh shh."

Claude heard his son begin to cry. He placed the child over his shoulder, patting his back. Within a few minutes Claude heard his son burp and spit up a bit.

"There."

He placed his hand back on the boy's head.

"He is going back to normal."

Claude had noticed the worry in his wife's eyes and the complete aw at how he had known what to do.

"You forget; I raised my brother."

Meanwhile, Esmeralda had placed Esme back in her cradle.

Claude too placed his son back in his cradle. He noticed Esmeralda fidgeting and knew she was about to broach a delicate subject.

"Will you kill him?"

She looked up into her husbands eyes, begging for a certain answer.

"Whether or not he strikes you first, will you kill him?"

Claude didn't know how to tell her that he would do his best to see the captain dead. He knew that she too was looking for a specific answer. His answer though would break her heart.

"It's complicated what you ask…"

She wouldn't let him finish.

"Will you kill him?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears.

"I swear to you, that I will only do so if he strikes me first. I swear I will only retaliate if he harms you, or our children."

That was not the answer she was looking for, but it seemed satisfactory.

"Why does it matter?"

Claude was visibly upset by her question.

"I…It doesn't matter."

Esmeralda tried to turn away and leave the room.

"It does. If it didn't matter, you would never have asked me."

Claude had hoped that by giving her the life any other woman could dream of, it would wash away her naïve love for the captain. He now began to see traces of that love, scattered in her question and her tears. Would she protect the captain? Would she choose him over Phoebus?

"I promised you that I would only kill the man if he threatened you. What more do you want from me?"

He stood in the doorway, wanting to continue the conversation.

"I'm going to speak with Isabeau."

With that she left.

* * *

"He was my first love. It sounds insane, I know! But, if Claude were to harm him…I…I don't know."

"And what if Phoebus kills Claude?"

Isabeau seemed like the voice of reason.

"I love Claude."

Esmeralda had stopped pining for Phoebus a while ago. She had sworn her love for Claude, and now it seemed the universe only wanted to test those vows. Would Claude still love her, if he saw the faintest hint of doubt in her eyes? Would she choose to stand and defend her husband over the captain?

"He was my first love. He was strong and all things good in the world."

"Yes, but my dear, that world has ended."

It suddenly occurred to Isabeau that Esmeralda still fantasized about her former life.

"When you dream, who is it that rescues you from the villains and monsters? When you wake, who is it that you first think of?"

"I've had many nightmares these past few months. Claude has always been the one to rush in and he is always there beside me."

Esmeralda said this more to reassure herself.

"Thank you."

* * *

"She asked me if I would kill him."

While Esmeralda was at the Frollo household, speaking with Isabeau, Claude was at the Palace of Justice, speaking with Jehan.

"And what did you say? Did you put her mind at ease and tell her that it would not come to that?"

"Not exactly…"

Jehan wanted to smash something over his brother's head.

"Then what exactly did you tell her?"

Claude was silent.

"Did you tell her that if it came between killing the captain and walking away to be with her, you would choose her?"

"Not exactly…"

Jehan rolled his eyes.

"Then what did you tell her?"

Claude gulped.

"Swallow your pride brother. She is not interested in watching you, the man she loves rip her former 'Sun God's' heart from his chest. Trust me, there are no more points that need be proven. She loves you and you love her. Who's name does she call out when you two are making love, is it yours or his?"

"It is mine. She has never called out for any other."

"Exactly my point."

Claude was still missing the point.

"She loves you. She doesn't want to watch you try to prove something that has already been proven time and time again. By killing him, that would only turn her away from you. Do you want her to see you as a monster?"

"And what if he strikes first?"

Jehan had pondered this and was a step ahead of his brother.

"Allow me the honor. It will make me a hero to Isabeau and you a hero to Esmeralda."

"So, if I step down from a challenge and decide against killing the captain, that will make me more amorous in her eyes?"

Jehan nodded. His older brother was finally catching on.

* * *

It was in the early evening when Claude arrived back home. He may not have liked the reason why his wife didn't want him to kill Phoebus, but at least he now understood why.

"Claude, you have nothing to prove to me."

She smiled, kissing his lips and leading him to their bed chamber.

"Where are the children?"

He looked around befuddled. Normally she was feeding Claude-Maurice at this time.

"My mother arrived earlier than expected, so she took them to the inn with her."

Esmeralda backed up against the door, closing it in a very seductive manner.

"About what you asked me earlier…"

She placed her index finger to his lips.

"There is no more need to talk of such things."

She whispered close to his lips, licking them before giving him another chance to speak.

"You are the man who rescues me in every nightmare I have, you are the man I first think of in the morning and the fact that he was my first love doesn't matter. What matters is that you are the one I love now."

She had begun to unlace her bodice, when she heard him draw in a ragged breath.

"That is why I should not kill him. And I won't, not even if he is the first to strike."

He finally kissed her lips, letting her know that he was being sincere.

* * *

Morning had come, the same time it had every morning. Claude awoke, kissing Esmeralda's forehead. This was their morning routine, but today part of their routine was missing. Claude-Maurice was not there to disturb them and let out a cry to be fed. The boy had his mother's lungs. Claude felt his wife move, snuggling closer to him. All night long she had tried to convince him that it was a bad idea to go to the dinner party.

"I miss our babies."

She pouted, leaning closer to Claude and grabbing him around the waist.

"They'll be home tomorrow morning."

Claude yawned, not wanting to rise.

"Yes, but what if Claude-Maurice becomes ill again?"

"Esmeralda, you and I are going to that party, end of discussion."

He placed his arms around her waist, letting his hands fall and cup her buttocks.

"You seem tired, perhaps you will become too tired to go!"

She rubbed her womanhood against his manhood. If she didn't want to go, then getting him to make love to her all day would be the perfect way of keeping them both from attending the party.

He felt himself begin to enter her. He wanted to give her a quick morning fuck; he wanted to be rough with her, wanted to remind her that she was his and no one else's.

He could feel her gaining ground as she slid on top and straddled him. She guided his hands up to her bare breasts and was almost begging him to squeeze them. He knew that he was hers and no one else's. He knew that this quick morning fuck would turn into him craving more of her, just as she constantly craved him. He knew that with her, there was no such thing as a "quick fuck."

"There will be time enough for that tonight my dear."

He turned over, thrusting just before pulling out of her.

"But if we don't go, we can spend the day in bed, together."

She was still trying to persuade him not to make her go.

"I am not asking that you enjoy yourself at this dinner. Whether or not you enjoy it is up to you. You will, however be going."

He rose and quickly dressed.

* * *

Claude passed the day teaching with Gringoire at his side, while Esmeralda had gone to see her mother and children. But, evening had come early. Esmeralda dressed in a lovely mint green and silver dress. Claude wore his black dress doublet. As they approached the De Chateaupers' home, Claude could feel Esmeralda clinging to his arm, he could feel her nails digging into his flesh.

"Good evening Claude, Agnes."

The captain greeted them at the door, attempting to plant a kiss on Esmeralda's hand.

In all politeness, she allowed it and curtsied gracefully. Claude watched Phoebus with the eye of a hawk.

Jehan and Isabeau had already arrived and were seated in the parlor.

"I see that all of our guests are here now."

Fleur-De-Lys began to pour the wine.

"Allow me."

Phoebus stepped in to finish pouring the last glass. It was to be for Esmeralda. He dropped the small amount of liquid from the vial into her goblet. He did not know what effect it would have on her, nor did he care. He offered the cup to her and watched as Claude looked on.

One sip…two sips…Esmeralda began to feel dizzy.

"Well, all parties have some point to them, what is the point of this one?"

Jehan was blunt.

"Yes, I am wondering the same."

Claude was curious as to why Fleur-De-Lys had invited them all there. She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to Phoebus.

"You should be the one to tell them."

In truth she did not know why he had invited Agnes and Claude. She only knew why she had invited Jehan and Isabeau. She delighted in watching the captain fumble for some fabricated answer.

"I just thought we could bury the hatchet."

He noticed the bewildered look in Esmeralda's eyes.

"Then why did you give this to my wife? Did you not ask her to give it to Agnes to give it to Claude as a gift?"

Jehan took from his pocket the small orange vial and held it up for everyone to see.

Fleur-De-Lys smiled, satisfied at how this dinner was turning out.

"This vial never reached Agnes' hands. I drank a small amount, but my wife saved me from swallowing it."

It seemed that Phoebus was backed into a corner.

"What is that?"

Fleur-De-Lys questioned, knowing that her curiosity would be Phoebus' undoing.

"This is a potent sleeping aid."

Claude replied.

"A small amount will render the one who drinks it unconscious for a few days. A larger amount will kill the one who drinks it."

Claude felt the need to elaborate.

"It was sold to me as a stomach ache remedy. Isabeau told me how Claude had been having problems with wine and spicy foods…"

"You and she are friends?"

Fleur-De-Lys slyly questioned.

"We are not."

Isabeau spoke out, not wanting to hear another of the captain's many lies.

Fleur-De-Lys looked over to see Esmeralda's face redden. She was tugging at her garments, trying to tear them away from her skin. She had stood and gone near a window, leaning her head against the cool glass.

"The only connection he has to me is that he is Emilee's biological father."

Phoebus had tried to keep that a secret from Fleur-De-Lys.

Phoebus watched Esmeralda out of the corner of his eye.

"Is your wife ill Claude?"

He asked, sauntering over to her.

"You look quite warm my dear, allow me to show you where you may lie down."

Without being able to think clearly she took Phoebus' hand.

Phoebus led Esmeralda down the hall and into his bed chamber, allowing her to lie back on his bed.

She felt her eyes close and the last sensation of reality; him begin to unlace her dress.

* * *

She could feel a humid air on her skin. It smelled of sweat and of rotting flesh, a familiar stench to say the least. She saw a figure moving away from the door, closing it, cutting off her one source of light. Beneath her she felt the ground, a hard slab of cement and nothing more. She felt around, reaching out to the only other thing in the room. She felt her hand run over open wounds and the dried blood of the damned.

"No!"

She shook, knowing where she was.

"She needs her rest."

Phoebus had gone back to the party, wanting everyone to leave. He wanted to be able to take sweet advantage of Esmeralda's horrified state. Seeing that Claude's goblet was nearly empty, Phoebus decided to refill it.

"Allow me."

He dared not pour anything other than wine into his goblet.

"Do not drink it."

Jehan had carefully observed Phoebus' every movement and though he did not see the man pour anything other than wine into the goblet, he did not trust Phoebus.

"Agnes was feeling fine when she arrived. You were the one who poured her wine."

Jehan finally came out and confronted Phoebus head on.

"The question is not what I poured into her wine, but what effects it will have on her."

Claude had promised Esmeralda that he would not under any circumstance kill Phoebus, but the man was making the act of keeping such a promise too difficult.

Claude took action. He tore down the hall and burst into the room. He found Esmeralda lying, eyes closed and dress unlaced on the bed. She was safe.

Frightened by the sight of one dead man's half scorched face, she rolled over, only to face a partially decayed face. This man was still fresh, his nose was gone, his eyes had been pecked out, but there were remnants of skin where his cheeks and chin had once been.

"Monster!"

The man heard her voice and rolled over to face her. She felt his bloody lips on hers, his decomposed tongue rubbing against hers.

Claude had heard her talking in her sleep and had leaned down to kiss her lips.

She could feel something within her bubbling. A strange taste stuck in her mouth, the flavor of the wine and of the dead man who lay next to her.

The man was not finished just yet. She felt him ripping her dress with sharp bones which at one time had been his fingers. She felt him once again kiss her, pushing his tongue passed her lips. She could feel him wanting to savor the moment and all she could feel was vomit.

"No! No, go back to Hell where you belong!"

Claude knew these words were not meant for him. They were meant for whatever demon was haunting her dreams.

Seeing the gunk seep from his wife's lips, Claude turned her on to her side. He felt the best thing to do was to sit by her side until whatever nightmare she was having passed.

"Claude."

Phoebus had gone looking for his adversary.

"What poison did you give her?"

Phoebus withdrew his sword.

"It was no poison. It was something more practical. She is not asleep, oh no, she is awake. Everything that is happening now in this room is part of her fantasy."

Esmeralda had felt the grotesque creature release her as the light poured into the tomb. And there, bathed in the light was her hero! His sword drawn to kill the monstrosity next to her.

Phoebus placed his sword to Claude's chest.

Claude moved to remove his sleeping wife from the bed.

Esmeralda could feel the flesh dangling from the arms of the dead man as he lifted her away from the ground. This time she fought back, pushing him away, striking his face, clawing at what little skin he had left on his cheeks.

"DAMN!"

Claude screeched, dropping her back down onto the bed. The wound was deep, as though it were intentional.

Phoebus pressed the blade of his sword against Claude's chest, forcing him out of the room. The captain closed the door, affording him complete privacy with Esmeralda.

She watched as the blade entered the dead man's chest, creating a new wound and piercing his heart. The dead man fell to his knees in silence.

"Who are you?"

She asked sweetly, wanting to thank the man who had come to rescue her.

Outside, Claude stood stupefied at what had happened. Isabeau had grown tired of the conversation about Phoebus and had run to find Esmeralda.

"What happened?"

She asked, seeing the blood drip down his chin and neck.

"I…I do not know."

Esmeralda rubbed her body against the man who had saved her. She had never felt more grateful to anyone…anyone, accept…in the back of her mind she remembered someone. She could not remember his face or his name, but she knew he was there.

Thinking quickly, Claude went to fetch some wine. He knew that the captain would not be smart enough to take the green vial with him.

He poured a small amount of liquid from the green vial and then a small amount of liquid from the orange vial into the wine.

Isabeau would deliver the drink. She knocked on the door.

"Phoebus, I have a surprise for you."

She used her most sultry voice to gain his attention. He opened the door, took the wine and drank it in one gulp.


	36. I'm Sorry Seems to be The Hardest Word

Thanks for the reviews!!!

Work has been busy, I haven't had much time to work on this, but I'm slowly finding the time.

Summary: Esme and Claude have a heartfelt talk and confess some things to eachother. Phoebus has a hallucination. Lots of talk about penis size in this one...primarily Phoebus'(Phoebus has a major insecurity.) If you are offended by a man's insecurity about his size, then I suggest you not read the majority of Phoebus' hallucination.

Preview: A naughty bathtub scene between Esme and Claude. Word of Phoebus' death reaches Claude and Esme.

As always reviews are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

Phoebus slammed the door shut and went back to the damsel who lay on his bed.

"My name…"

He stopped, placing a hand to his head. His head felt funny. A strange feeling washed over him. He forgot everything; his name, where he was.

"I am…"

He fell to his knees in agony, clutching the bed sheets.

"I…I…"

His voice had been reduced to gurgling sounds, as he felt vomit rise in the back of his throat.

"Claude!"

At last Esmeralda remembered who she had once been completely grateful to.

"Claude?"

She looked around, but could not see him. She only saw a man, lying face down in a puddle of vomit. The man had no face, only a hollowed out skull. Her face scrunched up, as if she were about to cry.

"No."

She wanted to turn away and to lean against someone, but no one was in the crypt. She alone sat on the concrete slab with on bodies of those who used to exist.

Claude had heard a loud "thud" coming from the room, but he was afraid to re-enter.

As he entered the bed chamber, Claude watched as Esmeralda's body convulsed, he saw tears being squeezed out of her eyes and could hear faint gasps for help.

"I don't want to die."

He could hear her whisper.

"I am here."

Claude spoke, trying to soothe her. He did not know what else he could say.

Esmeralda's hand rose to feel the soft velvet doublet of the man who had rescued her. Claude winced, unsure of whether this would be another violent moment.

Claude let her hands explore his features, even the gashes on his face.

"Claude?"

She slowly began to open her eyes.

"Yes."

She opened her eyes to see no darkness, no bodies strewn about. She saw her husband standing over her with a worried look on his face.

"I was in a crypt…and there was this horrible man…he appeared dead, but was not. He tried to have his way with me, but I fought to get away from him…and…Claude?"

For the first time she noticed the gashes on his face.

"Did the captain do that?"

She questioned, running her hand over the wound.

"No."

He turned his gaze to the ground.

"I suppose I was the awful man."

He spoke with such dejection and self loathing.

"No. You were the one who saved me! I saw the clothing the other man wore and it was a soldier's uniform."

She pressed her lips to his, happy that he was there to hold her and to comfort her once again.

Claude gently disengaged her lips from his. He did not want her to kiss him, he did not want her to hold him. He could barely look at her. He slinked out of the room, walking past Jehan and Isabeau and out the door.

"What was that about?"

Isabeau questioned Jehan, but all he could do was shrug.

Esmeralda decided to try standing. She felt her legs wobble beneath her and fell. She then saw the captain, lying in a pool of bloody vomit.

"Phoebus?"

She whispered, shaking his shoulder lightly. She was certain she had killed him. She must have struck him, she must have done something to knock him unconscious. This must have been why Claude seemed so angry.

Esmeralda rushed out of the room, nearly tripping over the captain's body.

"Jehan, where is Claude? What happened?"

"He left. Esmeralda, what exactly did you see?"

It was clear to her that something had happened between her and Claude.

"I saw a man who appeared dead. He was trying to have his way with me. He looked like Phoebus…"

She rambled, trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Really? Claude rushed in and you attacked him. Phoebus forced Claude out of the room and was about to have his way with you."

Jehan was visibly angry.

"I saw Claude kill him!"

Jehan wanted to yell and slap her.

"He killed him didn't he?"

Esmeralda wanted to cry, but saw the pure hatred in Jehan's eyes.

"Claude killed Phoebus."

Esmeralda curled her tiny hands into fists and struck Jehan's chest.

"No. No, he did not kill him. But, perhaps he should have. Esmeralda, you act as though you still love the captain."

Jehan's voice was cold and distant.

For the first time Esmeralda was unsure of how she felt. Phoebus had been her first love, and for that reason alone was he important to her. Claude was the man she currently loved and was the father of her children.

"I have to go."

She replied, leaving, trying to catch up to Claude.

* * *

Claude had returned home and was bathing in a tub of cool water. He needed to wash away the night's events. He had promised her that he would not kill the captain and he had broken that promise. He felt unworthy of her now and could not foresee her forgiving him this time. He heard an odd knock at the door, followed by the door opening.

"You have every right to be angry with me."

He began, thinking that was why she had come into the washroom. What he never expected was for her to climb into the tub, fully dressed.

"I…I killed him."

Claude looked away from her.

"I gave him wine with…with both the poisons in it."

His voice shook and she could tell that he was on the verge of tears.

"Shhh."

She did not want to hear him speak of how he killed Phoebus. He did so, only to protect her.

"I still think of him from time to time. I think about what if he had come to save me and what if he and I were husband and wife."

She could see Claude expression change from guilt stricken to emotionally bruised.

"You can not tell me that you do not think about what your life would be like now if you had never seen me!"

She let herself cry.

"You can not tell me that you do not think about how happy you could be right now as a priest. And if you were to do so, it would be a lie."

She allowed him to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Yes, I think about him. But I know that if I were his wife, I would not be happy. Just as you know in your heart that if you were still a priest you would be miserable."

She was absolutely right. Even if he had never met her, he would still be searching for something to make him a happy man. He could see in her eyes that despite the fact that she sometimes thought about the captain, she truly did love him.

"If you are angry with me for moments of indiscretion and thoughts I sometimes have about what might have been, then you are very wrong!"

Claude saw the love in her eyes.

"Esmeralda!"

She stopped, letting him speak at last.

"I killed him, not because I thought you still loved him, but because he was trying to take advantage of you and your state of mind."

She felt like a silly little girl, a fool for barging in and blurting everything out.

"And, you are right. There are days when I ask myself what my life would be like if I had never met you. It would be boring and joyless."

He pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

* * *

It was getting late, but for the unconscious Phoebus it was a bright, warm and sunny day. He could hear doves cooing and see the bluest sky above him. And all around him there were woman; pretty young women. They laughed and spoke in small groups as he walked by. He recognized one of them, a sweet young blonde woman. And then there was that little brunette he had pursued in Lyon, and the red headed tramp he spent the week with in Provence. He recognized each and every face in this crowd and there was not another man around. It seemed like the average man's paradise! But for Phoebus this was a true Hell. He walked past a small group of three or four girls and could hear small bits and pieces of their conversation.

"He pays well…"

"Yes, but wouldn't it be nice to be paid that well for something you actually enjoy?"

"I wouldn't mind it lasting for more than five minutes…"

"Five? You were lucky then!"

They soon began pointing and laughing; they were pointing and laughing at HIM!

"He was so small!"

He heard one girl blurt out. He looked around and saw the little hussy who had uttered those words. He could only see her pretty blonde hair, it was put up and she wore finer clothes than the other girls. He stomped up to her, grabbing her arm, making her face him.

"And he still is."

This little tart was not a tart at all. This was Fleur-De-Lys who was now laughing in his face. He looked at her in utter shock. He looked into her eyes, searching for an explanation.

"And soft. Oh so very soft."

Phoebus had always prided himself on how he could pleasure woman and how many he was able to pleasure. Fleur-De-Lys seemed to find putting him down enjoyable.

"He can hardly keep it up at all."

She whispered into his ear.

"That is, unless you are some little gypsy girl."

He was visibly wounded by her words, which seemed to be what she wanted.

She laughed anew, looking down at his manhood. For the first time he realized that he was completely nude.

She had always defended him, always stood by his side and now she was taunting him.

"I remember our wedding night."

A deviant smile crossed her lips. For a moment he thought she might have fond memories of that special night.

"I hoped it would be madly passionate and full of love!"

There was a small hint of innocence in her eyes.

"It was quick, lacked passion and three minutes into the act he fell flat!"

She was cruel to him.

"Were you thinking about your little gypsy demon? Could thoughts of her not keep you hard?"

He blushed, not knowing what to say.

"Or perhaps you prefer men."

Fleur-De-Lys mused.

Phoebus was growing irritated with her, but could not find the strength to speak.

* * *

Phoebus was not dead. He was still alive. Somehow he had managed to stand and began to walk into the parlor. His legs wobbled and he swayed from side to side, giving him the look of drunkenness.

"I am not small!"

He bellowed, sword in hand.

"And the reason I can't keep it up is because…because…"

He felt something bubbling in his stomach and that bubbling migrated up into his throat and mouth. His mouth opened, spewing a red vomit on the Persian rug next to Fleur-De-Lys' feet.

She looked at him with disgust.

"Because you were a nagging little virgin!"

He wiped the vomit from his lips and pointed the sword at her.

"Do you know why I married Claude?"

Another familiar voice and lovely face to match. He turned around to see Esmeralda standing there.

Her dark hair stood out against the blue sky.

"I married Claude because you weren't enough of a man for me."

She walked up to the captain, taking the holster he held and lovingly examined it. Grabbing hold of the hilt of the sword she withdrew it. She snorted, holding a tiny poniard dagger. She threw the dagger and the holster to the ground, tossing her hair. She stood there, waiting for someone. Phoebus watched as Claude walked up behind her and pressed himself against her, placing his hands around her waist and kissing her neck. She closed her eyes and swooned in ecstasy.

Phoebus could hear Claude chuckle. He was mocking him.

"Besides, Claude's is bigger than yours, much bigger."

Esmeralda giggled, wrapping her arms around Claude's neck and pressing herself against him.

Her laughter echoed through his mind and surrounded him.

Phoebus watched as Claude gently let go of his wife and calmly walked over to him. He clapped his hand on the captain's shoulder and whispered something into his ear.

"You couldn't even keep the interest of a virgin."

Phoebus felt something sharp enter between his ribs. Gasping for air and clinging to Claude's doublet Phoebus hung onto the last shred of his life. He reached for his sword, but realized now that his sword and holster were a few paces away and out of his grasp.

The swirling sense Phoebus had once had was disappearing. He could hear voices all around him and each one was recognizable.

"Phoebus!"

He heard his beautiful wife shout, but could not react. He wanted to take hold of her and reassure her that he would be alright, but he couldn't. He would not be alright, he would not wake up, he would not rush to Fleur-De-Lys' side and comfort her. He was dead.


	37. The Bridge

Thanks for the reviews!!!

I don't own the song, Elton John does...Hugo owns the characters.

Summary: Claude is rough with Esme in the tub. Claude reverts to being controling, jealous and manipulative. Jehan delivers the news of Phoebus' death.

Preview: Esme finds it hard to forgive Claude. Claude rememebers the first day he saw Esme. Esme remembers the day when Claude asked her to marry him. They both remember why they are married.

* * *

"My dear, that dress must feel uncomfortably heavy in this water."

Claude suddenly realized that Esmeralda was sitting with him in the tub, fully clothed. And that was not how he wanted her to be in the tub with him. The laces of her bodice had already been loosened by the captain, so Claude loosened her belt and skirt. He could feel her warm body beneath the cool water, wiggling and rubbing against his. He allowed her to slip the wet clothes off and watched, contented as she tossed them carelessly away. She slowly descended back into the tub, allowing Claude time enough to relish her nude figure. A lustful smirk crept across his face, as she sank down onto his waiting member. Her skin gleamed, reflecting the little light the moon offered. He ran a hand around her waist, closing the little gap between them. He could feel her hot breath on his lips, enticing him to press his to hers. He could hear the shivering gasps of his name and leaned into her, causing her to lean back. As the water sloshed around them he let his hand slide down her thigh to her knee and brought her leg around his waist. This was the most aggressive she had ever seen him, he was hungry for her.

"Oh Claude!"

With his aggression and the positioning it felt almost like her first time with him. There was a tiny amount of pain and he could feel her tense up.

"Be rough with me!"

She whispered in his ear, eagerly clawing at his shoulder blades.

He rammed into her, nibbling at her neck simultaneously.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Her voice was barely above a whisper and she could hardly manage to call out his name.

She could sense him becoming greedier, as his tongue slid between her breasts.

He was not interested in satisfying her the way he had been all along. No, tonight he was only interested in how she could satiate him! He for once wanted to be selfish, a tiny part of him wanted her to feel helpless and a small part of him wanted to hurt her in the throws of passion.

He could feel her, ready to climax. Her moans had become short, high pitched yips. He rode her faster and harder now, aching to see her ripe breasts bob and bounce in the cold water.

She arched her back, allowing him full view of her ample bosom.

"Yes my Esmeralda!"

His tone was more possessive than passionate and loving.

He deepened his thrusts, wanting her to know that he was in control. He clung to her, grabbing her by the hair and twisting his hand into that dark mass.

"Ouch!"

He had heard her, he had acknowledged the slight pain she might have been in, but that pain was worth it to him.

"Oh say my name my darling!"

He squeezed her breasts, letting his tongue languidly circled one erect nipple. He let his hands drift down her waist and pull her up into a sitting position. He wrapped his legs around her and led her legs around him. He slammed into her over and over again, wanting to hear her moans more and more. He dug his nails into her thighs, causing her to yowl in pain.

"Oh Claude Frollo!"

It had hurt, just the way it had the first time they made love.

She called out, feeling him climax inside of her.

He leaned back, nonchalantly, not caring what she did next. He wanted to push all thoughts of the captain out of her head once and for all, he wanted to punish her for merely thinking about any sort of life with Phoebus. And in his mind he had.

He watched as she shivered in the icy water and as she pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them in an attempt to keep warm. She looked as vulnerable as she had in the dungeon. The look in her eyes was pleading with him to take her in his arms and hold her, reassure her that he hadn't meant to be THAT rough. He smirked, watching her try and cover up her luscious breasts.

"Why be so modest my dear?"

He could not hide the evil grin from her. It had been a rhetorical question, or at least she thought it had been.

"Yes, hide from my gaze. Tell me, when we make love do you ever think of the captain?"

"No!"

She had confessed to him that she still thought of him, she did however, not say when those thoughts occurred. She had answered immediately, and to Claude that meant only one of two things; she was offended by the question and reacted on impulse, or she didn't want to take the time to fabricate a lengthier lie.

"Not even once?"

"No. Why would I? When we make love I barely have any time to think at all and when I do think, it is about how you make me feel."

He was now gabling with not only his heart, but hers as well.

He saw her question as merely part of her answer and did not feel obligated to answer it.

"So when do you think about the captain?"

She gave him a look that should have told him not to continue this conversation and that even if he did win this little battle, he would lose something greater.

"Sometimes my mind wonders when I am alone. Once in a while when he would knock at the door, or send me a gift."

She shrugged the thoughts of Phoebus from her mind so easily.

"When you think about all the 'what ifs' what do you think about exactly?"

He could see how uncomfortable he was making her, which was exactly what he wanted. He could see her avoiding his gaze, trying to look away; a sure sign of a liar.

"I think about him riding on his steed, teaching me to ride. I think of him coming home and being happy that I am there waiting for him. Yes, in the beginning I thought about what making love to him would be like, but that was long ago and when you first rescued me."

It was the truth, she had no reason to lie to him.

She was growing uncomfortable. He glared at her, not blinking.

"And do you compare me to those sweet little fantasies you have of your handsome captain?"

She knit her brow. It was a loaded question and he was trying to get under her skin. When she did not answer right away, he assumed that her answer was "yes."

"Then go and be with your knight in shinning armor, you impious little whore!"

She pouted in anger, shook her head and tried to keep the tears which were welling up in her eyes from falling. It was not that she wanted to be with Phoebus, she could barely stand to be around the captain! She just didn't want to hear Claude continue to demean her.

She placed a hand on each side of the tub and pulled herself out.

"Your bed will be cold for quite sometime!"

Her voice was bitter and harsh. She grabbed a towel and went into their bed chamber to find something suitable to wear. She would go stay at the inn with her mother and children, until Claude found it necessary to apologize.

* * *

Had he waited for her answer, he would have found out that she did compare him to her fantasies of the captain and that there was no comparison. He would have found out that she preferred him even over her daydreams! He would expect her to come back into the washroom, but after several minutes he decided not to wait any longer. She would surely be in their bed chamber, waiting completely nude under the covers. She would want to wound him by allowing him the sight of her body, but not let him touch her. She had done so before, she had even fingered herself to make her point. It shocked him when he opened the door and Esmeralda was not there.

He had risked losing everything in asking her about her fantasies and he did lose. He did not foresee losing everything, so he stood there, a questioning look on his face. She truly did not think about the captain in the manner that she thought about Claude. He figured that she needed some time to think things over and that she would be back in the morning. He crawled into bed, already missing his sweet wife. He wondered why he had to take things too far and why he always felt the need to have the last word. But he did not have the last word this time. She did. She was sweet, she was loving and good to him. And he had called her a "whore." She was constantly telling him how much she loved him and how much she wanted to make love to him every night and he had questioned her fidelity. He thought to himself that had he just let her be, he could be tasting coition at this very moment. But the fact that she still thought of the captain made him rage with jealousy! He pulled the covers over his head and pressed against a large pillow. It was nowhere near as gratifying as cuddling with his wife, but it would have to do.

It had not been an easy night for Claude; it was full of tossing and turning and thoughts of how to make things better with Esmeralda. His first thought was to find her and apologize. He also thought that it would be in his best interest to have some sort of a gift, a peace offering for her. He would go into the market that day and find something exquisite that Esmeralda would love and march gallantly to the inn, demanding to see her at once. It all sounded so romantic to him, that he was absolutely certain the plan would not fail.

Esmeralda had given much thought to Claude's probing questions. She felt some guilt for having thought about Phoebus, but not enough to lose sleep over. What she lost sleep over was the fact that Claude had called her a "whore." He had never once said that to her before and she wondered if that was how he really felt about her. He had saved her life, so that she would have no choice in marrying him and consummating the marriage. She often wondered what might have happened had she refused to marry Claude and refused to make love to him. Perhaps he would have denounced her as a witch and turned her over to the courts. For a brief moment in time she felt his words ringing true. But, morning came and she knew that Claude would be along any moment to correct what he had done wrong. He would patch up the little hole with nothing more than paste and a thin sheet of parchment.

Jehan had gone to the Francois house, hoping to tell both Claude and Agnes what had transpired that evening after they left.

"Well, where is she?"

Jehan questioned, after Claude had told him of the events of the previous night.

"She probably went to the inn to stay with her mother and our children."

Claude groggily wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Perhaps this news is best heard from you brother."

Jehan hoped that he would not have to be the bearer of awful news to the girl.

"One would think. But, no."

Jehan gave his older brother a puzzled look.

"She and I had an argument last night. She thought that I gave the captain that drink out of jealousy and she confessed to me that she still thinks of him from time to time. I stupidly put my foot in my mouth and called her a name I should never have called her. If I tell her, then she might take it the wrong way, she might be angry with me for putting the poisons in the captain's drink."

"Yes, but you did not deliver the drink."

Jehan tried to find a loophole, but there was none.

"You didn't put the sword through his heart at least."

Jehan shrugged, trying to make his brother feel better.

"She and I have never fought like this. She always finds some way to forgive me. Should she not apologize for her daydreams about the captain? You know, she asked me if I ever wondered what my life would be like had I never saw her."

Claude heard his brother chuckle and gave him a mock hard look.

"Oh, please brother! You would probably still be hunched over some old book…"

"Yes. Perhaps I would have done something great!"

Claude had gone off into his own little world and was talking to himself.

"I could have created gold from lead! Imagine it, at this very moment I could have been a king! And why stop at King of France. I could have been God's very own first in command. Yes, then everyone would see that God is the only true light in this world! All of my theories and experiments were thwarted the day I saw her down in the parvis, dancing. And to think back now, my body and soul were once so pure and clean and my mind was so clear. Yes, had I never sought her out, I would have a clear head and be able to think! But, when it comes to Esmeralda all of my reasoning and logic fly away! Logic no longer makes any sense."

Jehan rolled his eyes and let his brother go on a tangent.

"And should she be angry over the fact that you do have regrets? Should she be jealous of your mistress, Knowledge? Does she envy your sweet Logic?"

Jehan was driving at a point, one which Claude had failed to see.

"You are still jealous of the captain. Claude, you have nothing to envy. If you were he right now, you would be dead. Now, is that what you really want?"

Claude saw the truth in what his brother said.

"She's yours and he is dead. And isn't it odd, how all this time he has been just a few houses away from her…at anytime she could have gone to see him and set up a rendez vous at La Val D'Amour, or perhaps La Folordel's?"

Jehan did have a point. Esmeralda had never once sought Phoebus out. She had been faithful in their marriage.

"Tell me, how many times have you read a book during your marriage? How many times have you handed her The Bible and asked her to read a few passages from it aloud?"

"Countless."

Jehan nodded.

"And she has never once refused, or pulled the book away?"

"Not once. Well, there was one evening when she wanted to get my attention and she placed her hand over the nest few sentences."

"She has never held a book over the fire, or threatened to take them and sell them, or destroy them?"

Claude saw his brother's point.

"And what do you suggest I do? A simple apology won't work this time! She has actually left this time and I'm certain she is tired of hearing the words, 'I'm sorry' from my lips."

Claude was frustrated.

"That is one thing I have never had to deal with. I have never had a woman walk out on me. Yes, the woman I used to see were prostitutes, but even they deserved some form of respect. If you show up with some elaborate gift, then she will think that all you want is to buy back her affections. If you show up with only the words, 'I'm sorry' and no lesson learned, she will think that you think that's all it takes. You have really backed yourself into a corner Claude. In any event she may see the apology as just a bandage; a temporary solution to a long term problem."

As they walked down the street, Jehan stopped to purchase an apple from one of the street vendors and bit into it.

"What long term problem?"

It was apparent how clueless Claude was.

"You are a very controlling and jealous man, Claude. You manipulated that poor girl into loving you, instead of allowing her to love you in her own time and on her own terms. When it comes to women you are clueless as to what they are and how they think. You may love Agnes, but you love her more as an object, than an actual person. And until you start thinking of her as a person with her own thoughts, her own feelings and learn how to cope with emotions, then you will be clueless."

Claude knew he was clueless, but hearing it from his younger brother and in so many words, it just seemed to make Claude look the fool.

"Yes, but how do I deal with her emotions?"

"Women are emotional creatures. Their emotions change often and frequently. You need to learn what each emotion looks and sounds like."

Claude nodded.

"Yes, but what do I do about my immediate predicament?"

"I wish I knew."

Jehan finished off his apple and tossed it aside. They had reached the inn where Esmeralda was staying. Jehan would go in first and break the news to Esmeralda, and then Claude would step in to comfort her.

"Agnes?"

Jehan knocked on the door to Gudule's room.

"Young man, may I help you?"

Jehan took a step back.

"Yes Madame. I am looking for Agnes Francois. My name is Jehan Frollo Du Moulin…"

Esmeralda recognized the voice and the name.

"Jehan!"

She sprang to the door.

"Claude sent you, no doubt."

She scoffed, not wanting to let on that she missed her husband.

"No, actually I bring some grave news."

Jehan cleared his throat, before continuing.

Esmeralda gave him a look of absolute worry and fright.

"The captain stabbed himself with his own sword last night. He is dead."

Esmeralda gave Jehan a puzzled look.

"I saw it with my own two eyes Esmer…Agnes."

For a brief moment she fought back the tears, but after a few seconds she could no longer keep her composure. Jehan felt it best that he leave.

"Claude, don't go up just yet…"

Claude had already entered the establishment. In the grave tone of his brother's voice, he knew that Esmeralda needed him.

"Agnes…"

He saw her from the doorway, crying. Her first love had died and she could not help but weep for him.

"If you have come here to tell me that I am wrong to be crying over his death, then leave! If you are here to question me about how often I will think of him after this day, then leave! I do not want you around, if you only wish to make me upset."

He wasn't sure if he could handle her thinking about the captain any longer. He walked out, down the stairs and back out into the street. Seeing his brother standing, waiting for him, Claude turned back around and went back up the stairs into the room.

"I am not here to make you upset."

He sat down on the bed, next to her and placed an arm around her, allowing her to lean against him.


	38. Didn't Know I'd Love You So MuchPart 1

Hey all, thanks for the reviews!!!

Just to let everyone know, this is going to be a two part chapter thing...I'll put up the "Part 2" in a day or so.

I do not own the song...it's from Repo! The Genetic Opera. Hugo owns the characters.

Summary: Claude and Esme both take time to think about how they initially felt about the other. Esme and Claude have a talk in the street.

Preview: Isabeau is feeling ill. Jehan/Isabeau heavy chapter. Fleur-De-Lys' thoughts on Phoebus.

As always reviews are welcome, flames not so much.

* * *

Esmeralda had never been this angry at Claude before. He had come by and tried to apologize. He had brought her some little necklace, which he place directly into her hand. She had shoved him out of the room, slammed the door and thrown the necklace across the room. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

"Agnes, I don't know how I can apologize to you, but I am sorry."

She gave him a harsh stare.

"I never meant to question your fidelity."

She would not hear him out.

"I don't want you here."

She at last spoke, grabbing his arm and leading him toward the door.

"You can't apologize. I don't want to hear it! I'm not going to forgive you this time."

She opened the door and pushed him out. For some moments Claude just stood there, confused. He wanted to run back in and take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and force her to forgive him. But he knew he could not. If he were to do that, then she would hate him even more. He walked down the stairs and out the building. He would go home and think up a better plan of action.

* * *

Claude had returned home. It was late in the evening, so he lit a fire and sat down to read. The feel of the well worn leather binding of the book in his hand brought him back to another place and time entirely.

It was a cold December morning and Claude was busy, as always with his alchemy experiments. He had not moved from his chair for the last day or so now. He had not eaten and he had not left the cathedral for at least two days. Slowly his concentration was breaking. His stomach rumbled, his mouth had become dry and outside his window he heard the sound of something rattling. The rattling sound disturbed him more than his stomach or parched mouth. He stood to leave for a short while and retrieve nourishment, but first he stopped to examine what was going on down in the parvis.

There was a large crowd, filled with men and women of all ages. He asked himself what could draw such a crowd. There was no festival today, today was not a holiday. It was an average, run of the mill day. Nothing out of the ordinary was supposed to happen today. His eyes darted away from the crowd, trying to find the source of the rattling noise. And there, amongst the several faceless men and women was something twirling on one foot. The figure, at first was a blur of blue fabric and a tambourine. Then the twirling stopped. It was a girl! Claude at first found himself smiling, enjoying the sight of this young child and how much she seemed to delight in being out in the open air, dancing. He caught himself and admonished himself for thinking of her in such a way. She was, after all some little bohemian girl.

She was small, she looked to be no taller than five feet. Her hair was dark and wavy, with a blue scarf in it. The scarf shimmered in the afternoon's sunlight, making it appear that she wore a halo instead. Claude blinked, shaking off such a notion. She smiled and laughed, placing her tambourine out to collect money from her audience. The audience seemed to adore her! They seemed captivated by her every movement! Surely such a lovely creature could not be completely bad. He then saw her goat, a sign of Satan! He backed away, disgusted at her, disgusted at himself! How could he for one moment think of her as anything other than one of Satan's very instruments? She was a girl, she was a gypsy. And he was a priest, looking down upon her, wishing he were out in the audience.

Forgetting why he had stood up in the first place, Claude sat back down and attempted to read again. The rattling sound had ceased, so there should not have been any more distractions. He soon found him letting his mind wander. He occasionally did lose focus, but his mind would shift from science to religion. His mind shifted from science to the girl. He wondered how much she had made that day, just from dancing alone. He wondered if she made money in a way, besides dancing. She had probably had many customers, they were perhaps down there now, setting up their appointments. He wished he knew her name. He could then demand that she not dance anywhere near the cathedral ever again.

He allowed his hand to run over a page in his book, giving it a superficial glance and not paying any attention to the words on the page. He found himself no longer caring what the words meant, or what this book was about. Again he could hear the tambourine. He stood, angered that the sound would not let him be. He looked back out his window and saw the girl once more. She looked at peace and happy. Her gaze was turned upwards and he caught a glimpse into her eyes. They sparkled like a dark quartz. He could have sworn that she was looking directly at him, begging him to come down to her. He backed away in fright and almost tripped over his chair. He shook his head, attempting to shake off whatever it was he had been thinking. She was beckoning him to her, she saw him and wanted him. There could be no other explanation. But did he want her? The answer was supposed to be, "no." But for some odd reason, he felt something inside him begin to resist his vows. As a man he liked this new feeling. He had never thought of himself as just a man before and he was not just some average man. He was Dom Claude Frollo, Archdeacon of Josas. But, being Archdeacon seemed not to matter, as he peered down into the square once more.

* * *

Esmeralda sat back on the bed, in tears. She held the necklace she was given as a child in her hand. It seemed like ages since she had looked at it. The pink silk of the shoe now seemed a welcome companion, as it had so many times before.

She placed the small trinket in his hands. It had never once before been out of her sight and now she was intrusting it to him. She did not know if she should trust him with her most valuable treasure, but he had told her that he had found her mother. Until this moment, she had never really looked at him. She studied his features, quietly. Scanty white hair, a wrinkled forehead, high and thin cheeks. His lips were thin and pale, he was thin and pale. He looked like the grim reaper. She felt her hand leave his. His hand was wrinkled, but not rough. His hand felt weathered, like a fine leather. It felt strangely good on her smooth skin. A shudder went through her spine, but not one of horror or hatred, but one of pleasure. The feeling sickened her, but she hid it from him.

He had left to show her mother the shoe. She had a brilliant plan in order. She would have her mother help her escape this evil priest and she would find Phoebus and marry him. She and her captain would run away someplace where the priest would never find them. It was so perfect!

Claude had come back with a ring. He had placed it on her finger, the question he had asked her was nothing more than a blur, but she had agreed to marry him. She had not agreed to marry him out of love, or even liking. She had agreed to marry him only as part of her grand plan. He disgusted her, and yet, there was something almost sweet and romantic about his love for her. She looked up into his eyes. His eyes were normally dark and stone cold, but to her they appeared soft and kind, almost pleading. She felt an odd pity for him. He was in love with her and she would never be able to love him. He had found her mother and she only guessed that she could love him for that.

She felt him place the ring on her finger. She had dreamed of this moment several thousands of times before, but he was not the one she had dreamt of. Perhaps she could pretend that he was Phoebus. She would imagine the captain and in that way, she would make this awful man believe that she was in love with him. The only fact that seemed to remain was that this man in front of her had found her mother and Phoebus had not. For a moment she stopped thinking about Phoebus and her mother and saw the reality of her situation. She had never once given up the hope that she would find her mother and perhaps the man before her was not terribly awful. She could feel his hands gently fall away from her, as if they never wanted to let go. This man must be terribly desperate though, if he was willing to do all that he had done. She did not love him, but a small part of her found him to be quite romantic.

* * *

The clock struck , seven o'clock. She stood and looked around for the necklace Claude had given her. It was a beautiful emerald necklace. It almost matched her engagement ring. She found it lying near the door. She knelt to pick it up. There was a time, not too long ago, when she would have never accepted such a gift, or any gift for that matter from him. She picked up the trinket and stood, leaving the room. She wasn't entirely certain of what she was supposed to do now, but something told her that if she spoke to Claude, that might help.

Though the hour was late, she knew Gringoire would be home and she needed someone to help keep her safe, even if she was just walking back to her home.

"Esmeralda?"

He had not been sleeping, but the sight of her at his doorstep came as a shock.

"It's late and I need you to escort me home. Claude and I had a fight and I left and now I just need to talk to him."

Gringoire nodded, and began walking beside her.

"Do you mind me asking what this fight was about?"

He knew nothing about relationships, but thought he should at the very least try and give her some advice.

"He questioned my fidelity. And there's no reason he should ever question that! I've never once gone astray and…"

There, in their path stood a man. He wore dark colors and with the lack of light, Gringoire could not make out his features.

"Get behind me."

He whispered, placing his arm in front of Esmeralda to shield her. For some moments Gringoire and the man stood, neither one saying a word.

"Who are you?"

Gringoire attempted to sound brave and strong, and all those things men were supposed to be.

The other man reached down to grab something; a lantern. He held it up to see who was speaking to him.

"Master Pierre? What are you doing out at this time of night?"

It was Claude. Gringoire breathed a sigh of relief. He was a terrible fighter and would never have been able to offer Esmeralda the protection she needed had this man been a threat to them.

"I am here, because of a woman."

Gringoire saw the stern, paternal look on Claude's face.

"You know her, actually. She's about five feet tall, dark hair, dark eyes. She used to keep the company of a poet."

Claude's eyes sparked at the mention of his wife.

"She sent you?"

Claude took a step forward.

"No. She's here, with me. Or, rather, I am here with her. She wanted to return home, but at this late hour she needed an escort."

Esmeralda peered out from behind Gringoire's arm. She saw Claude, but now had no idea how she could face him. She didn't know what she wanted to say, or how she would say it. In all honesty she never meant to fall in love with him. She never thought that thoughts of him would keep her awake at night and make her smile. The thoughts she had of the captain were superficial daydreams which meant almost nothing to her. But she didn't know how to tell Claude that.

Claude attempted to look away, guilt written on his face. He had thought out everything he wanted to say to her, he had planned ahead, but as always those plans failed him. He never expected one woman to hold such a power over him. He never intentionally wanted to love her that was just a latent consequence of watching her dance. He never calculated the impact that this girl would have on his heart. He didn't know how to tell her that.

"I think it's best for me to leave."

Gringoire said at last, seeing that he was no longer needed.

Claude was once her nightmare, everything she tried to avoid and, then suddenly he had become her one true love, her hero. She had always expected to hate him.

"Claude…"

She was the first to speak.

"Sometimes when I'd see Phoebus and Fleur-De-Lys together, it would make me want to cry. They never had what we had. They never had to struggle to find love and I pitied them for that."

She began, clarifying that even though she once loved the captain, being with him would never make her truly happy.

"When I agreed to marry you, I never expected to actually love you, but I do."

He let her speak, until it was obvious she had said her piece.

"Esmeralda."

He wanted to comfort her in some way.

"Some nights I sit, watching you sleep. When I first told you that I loved you, I only thought it was lust. Then when you agreed to marry me, I never knew I would end up loving you."

He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Esmeralda, do you know what this is?"

She examined the piece of paper, trying to make sense of what was scrawled across it and at last shook her head.

"No."

"This was the first letter you sent to me. I have never been able to make out the writing, or the words to really know what it says, but because it was written by your hand I have kept it all this time."

She gave him an empathetic look.

"I remember when I wrote this. It was when you were still in Paris. I wrote it, telling you that I thought about you everyday."

A small smile spread across his lips.

"You thought about me?"

"Yes. I thought you knew."

He attempted not to appear surprised.

"Everyday, I thought about what being married would be like and what having someone love me would be like."

She stepped closer, emphasizing her point.

"And what did you imagine marriage would be like?"

He too took a step closer.

"I imagined it to be dull and boring. I imagined cooking and sewing and having children, and that would be my life. Only that. But being married to you isn't like that at all. Yes, I cook and sew, and we have two beautiful children, but we have so much more than that! Or, at least we did."

"Esmeralda, when I first asked you to marry me I thought that we would make love once and whatever hold on me you had would be broken. I never imagined what being married was truly like!"

He actually had imagined what it would be like; her constantly reminding him that he wasn't Phoebus, he wasn't handsome, she would never love him, never be his. He had imagined himself regretting everything, leaving her, or her leaving him, eventual boredom and resentment. He had never imagined that she would love him. It still hurt, knowing that she occasionally thought about the captain, but he could get passed that.

"Esmeralda, I am sorry for lashing out at you the way I did. We both know that I can be a very jealous man. We both know that I'm a work in progress. I've been trying, trust me I have. But, if there's something I can do better tell me."

"I want to forgive you, but you need to understand that I do think about other men. If I had wanted to be with the captain, I would have given in to him. You need to understand that whatever thoughts I have, or had were only that; thoughts. I would never act on those thoughts. Unless you can understand that, then I'm not sure if I can forgive you."

Claude thought a moment.

"I can understand that, at the very least I can try."

He placed his hands on her arms, about to embrace her.

"Unless they are thoughts of me, keep them to yourself."

Claude said with a humor laced voice.

"Of course."

She giggled, kissing his lips and at last letting him hold her.


	39. Didn't Know I'd Love You So MuchPart 2

Thank you so much for the reviews!!!

Summary: Lots of flashbacks of Jehan and Isabeau.

Preview: A Fleur heavy chapter. Well, Fleur and Madame Aloise chapter mostly. Gotta love those mother-daughter arguments. Another Jehan and Isabeau chapter. They're preparing for the worse. Claude and Esme talk about death.

Work's been keeping me busy and I've been kind of sick, so I might not be updating for a while...plus the next chapter will be kind of long, so it'll take a while to write.

As always reviews are welcom, flames not so much.

* * *

It was around noon the next day, when Fleur-De-Lys was sitting in an arm chair. She was drinking a glass of wine and thinking about her current predicament. Her husband had been killed, she was free of his lies. She felt a tiny stab of jealousy toward Agnes. Her husband had never been with any other woman. Claude rarely, if ever lied to Agnes. Fleur-De-Lys mused over why she had married Phoebus in the first place. He made her look good and it made other women envy her. She recalled being in love with him, but he was never around to lavish that treasure upon. She tried holding back her tears out of pride, but one escaped her. The tear rolled down her cheek and hung upon her chin. She stared blankly into space, pondering her next move. She could find another husband easily, but she did not want to. She could remain a widow, but at such a young age it seemed wrong. She looked down into her goblet, seeing the red liquid. She could take her own life. In an odd sense it seemed somewhat romantic. She would lace her wine with the lethal concoction of the same poisons Phoebus had drank. She could go peacefully and with no struggle. But Phoebus had not gone peacefully; he had died a painful death. God only knew what his last few minutes of life were like! They must have been torture! She felt the need for something less grotesque and more calming. She thought briefly of using a dagger, but it would be too obvious and besides, she did not think she could bring herself to stab herself.

She had found the two vials and there was just enough of each liquid left for her. She opened the green one, adding that poison first. She thought about what she might see; colors perhaps. She hoped to see fascinating, swirling colors. She would see a fond memory and die, hanging on to that memory. She lifted the orange vial to empty its contents into the wine. Her hand shook, she grimaced, unsure if she could bring herself to do it. The liquid slowly cascaded into her goblet. Now came the time to drink. For a moment she questioned whether or not there had been enough of each poison to kill her. She feared waking up, after attempting to kill herself, only to find that it was a failed attempt. She brought the goblet to her lips, releasing a breath, before taking the first sip.

* * *

Isabeau was standing in the parlor, waiting for Jehan to arrive home. She had been feeling faint for a few days now, but thought is was passing and saw no need to worry Jehan. She had been feeling a pain in her abdomen, had almost no appetite and only wanted to sleep. She hid the sick feeling well, claiming it was only fatigue.

"Isabeau?"

She heard a voice from outside the door.

"It's Claude, is Jehan home?"

She answered the door.

"No, but you are welcome to sit and wait for him if you would like."

Claude nodded, thanking her.

"Are you here seeking advice regarding Esmeralda again?"

A weak smile spread across her face. Claude noticed how pale she seemed, how lifeless her eyes appeared.

"Yes. But, Isabeau are you feeling alright?"

She shook off the notion that something might be wrong with her.

"No. It's nothing. I've just been a little tired, that's all. Now, tell me, what have you done wrong this time?"

She attempted to mask her pain with humor.

"Nothing, yet. I fixed what was wrong and now I want to keep it fixed. I'm just afraid I might place my foot in my mouth again."

Isabeau nodded. She was listening, but was far away. Claude saw the distant look in her eyes and placed his hand on her forehead. She felt warm, very warm.

"Claude, I told you; it's nothing. I've been tired. It'll pass, you and Jehan have nothing to worry about."

Claude cleared his throat and nodded.

"So, what exactly do you want to keep fixed?"

Her voice was almost a perpetual sigh.

"She and I are happy! With the captain dead, I feel no need to be jealous. She has been telling me all of her daydreams and fantasies about her and I and things are good between she and I right now."

Isabeau's eyes were drooping and she yawned. Her breathing had become shallow and heavy. Claude could hear every breath she was taking.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, of course I'm alright! You were saying that things are going well for you and Esmeralda. Keep doing whatever it is you are doing…take her someplace to get her mind off of all the bad things that have happened. Take her away from Paris for a while."

Isabeau had been sitting on a pallet and leaned back to a reclining position. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. She felt obligated to open her eyes, but also felt dizzy.

"Isabeau?"

Claude whispered, hoping she was alright. He felt her forehead once more, then quickly retracted his hand.

"I can hear you."

"Tell me if you feel any pain at all."

Claude began poking her stomach.

"OWCH!!!"

Isabeau screeched, batting his hand away.

"You need a physician."

"I'll be fine."

She reopened her eyes in protest.

"I'm going to find Jehan. You are to stay right there until he and I return. Try your best to keep your eyes open and do not, under any circumstance move."

"If it'll make you happy, bring Jehan home and a physician. But I am telling you, I feel alright."

Claude rushed to find Jehan, who as always was at The Palace of Justice.

* * *

"Jehan, something's wrong with Isabeau."

Jehan blinked, startled by Claude's outburst.

"She told me she was feeling tired…"

"No, it's something worse. Bring a physician with you when you go home."

Claude ran out the door in a panic, with Jehan following him.

* * *

There was a time when Jehan could only be found in one of two places; La Val D'Amour, or La Falourdel's. It was on a summer's eve when he first saw Isabeau. She was scraping some drunk off a table. He looked into her eyes and an immediate smile spread over his whole face. How she could lift a drunk man's head off a table and still look dignified was beyond him, but in that moment he found her intoxicating. Phoebus must have seen the look on his face, for he walked Jehan over and introduced him to the girl. He had grown notorious for not paying, so she demanded the money up front. In a way he respected that. For a while their relationship was strictly business; he was her customer and she provided him a service. They would not always end up having sex. Some evenings they would drink and talk. She had always found it odd that Jehan let her ramble on about her dreams, as no other man would. She preferred his company to that of any other man. He was never violent or abrasive with her. He would not just leave in the mornings, he would rest with her in bed for a while, let her cuddle with him. After a while they had become friends; he would often go visit her just to talk, primarily about Claude and his lectures. Every once in a while she would allow him not to pay her. She found it odd when he began showing up with gifts, faux jewelry or faux gems. In a short time he had gone from only being a customer to being a good friend. Of all the faces she dreaded seeing, he was not one. His presence was always welcome. There had been times when she had imagined being married and once again being a respectable woman. She had always pictured herself married to Jehan. She would always shake of the daydreams, for she was only a prostitute and even he could not possibly want to marry a whore. When she found out she was pregnant and had told Jehan, she half expected him to leave her, stop seeing her and be disgusted with her. She half expected him to react like all the rest of the men. But Jehan was different. He immediately decided that the child was his and that he wanted to do the honorable thing. Isabeau's experience with "honorable" men had been bad. "Honorable" men beat whores, they forced themselves on prostitutes, they were abusive and cold. Jehan was not an "honorable" man and she didn't want him to become one. She wanted him to stay the Jehan she always knew, the Jehan she fell in love with. She had never dared tell Jehan that she loved him. She was afraid of what might happen. He would leave her, he would stop calling on her. He was too good of a man to lose and too good for those three relationship destroying words. But in her heart, she knew he loved her. That's why he rarely saw any other woman. He enjoyed her company. She listened to his pipe dreams and drunken fascinations. She would bring him back down to Earth. Somehow she always knew that he loved her, it just took her being pregnant for him to ask for her hand in marriage.

* * *

Jehan waited in the parlor with Claude, as the physician examined Isabeau in the bed chamber.

"She's never been ill. She's been pregnant, but never ill."

Jehan leaned against the mantle, his head in his hand.

"I have known her for three years and never once has she been ill!"

The idea of Isabeau being sick struck Jehan as unreal.

"What if she's not just ill?"

Jehan whispered gravely.

"I can't raise Emilee by myself. I can't be without Isabeau now. Claude do you know how long it took me to gather up the courage to ask her to marry me?"

Claude had always figured that the only reason his brother had gotten married, was because Isabeau was pregnant.

"A day, a week, a month?"

"Try three years. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her!"

"But you've known her for three years."

"I knew the moment I saw her, that I wanted to marry her. It just took her being pregnant for me to fully realize that fact."

* * *

All around Jehan were the usual faces, the cussing, the smells of alcohol and cheap perfumes. This place had become too familiar. He knew that at any moment the pretty brunette would wander up to him, casually asking him for a little romp. He knew that the blonde with the face full of warts would stumble over in a drunken stupor and ask him if he had brought the money he owed her. It had become boring. He scanned the room, looking for something to keep his attention, and there a yard away he saw that something. It was a lovely dark haired woman with crystal blue eyes and pale skin. She was lifting a man up off the table. The man had passed out from drinking and she was trying to get him sobered up enough to go upstairs with her. He saw her look up at him, smiling. She may not have been smiling directly at him, but he could think that. He felt himself smile at her. He had suddenly become a fool. He watched as her smile disappeared and she turned away. He wanted to reach out and force her to turn and look back at him.

Jehan felt his companion's hand on his shoulder and he heard him mention the girl's name. It was the most beautiful name, a name of an angel! For the first time in his life, Jehan felt clumsy and clueless. He stuttered when asking her upstairs. She regarded him with a sincere air. She meant business in making sure he had money and made him show her the coins before going upstairs with him. He could tell that she didn't like him. He could tell that her dislike did not come from his reputation. He had always been well liked by the women here and wanted to know why this one did not seem to enjoy his company. He attempted talking to her, but she only rolled her eyes and gave sarcastic half-hearted answers. They passed the first night drinking and talking and nothing more. He went back every night for a week and requested her and only her. After a few nights of nothing more than talking, he did the unthinkable. He knelt down and asked for her hand in marriage. She laughed, knowing that he could not be serious and he forced a laugh, pretending that he was joking.

After a few months had passed, he again asked her to marry him. He asked her every few months, and every few months garnered the same result; she giggled and said "no." He went along with her, laughing and joking. He liked her, because she listened to him. She was not just there to provide him her body, she was not an object like the others. He respected her as a person. He would hold her and kiss her and he would promise to make her happier than she had ever been. When he had asked her to marry him the last time, he knew that she would say, "no." He had been determined to marry her. He loved her, he just never knew that he could make her believe that.

* * *

"She means that much to you?"

Claude could see a tear roll down his brother's cheek.

"Claude, how much does Esmeralda mean to you?"

Jehan sobbed as her spoke.

"She means everything to me. I can't imagine what life would be like without her now."

"You have your answer."

Claude didn't know how to comfort his younger brother when it came to matters of the heart. He knew how to take care of his brother when he had been ill as a child, he knew how to help Jehan when it came to matters of academics and religion. But when it came to matters of the heart, Claude had no idea his brother thought with his heart until he had asked Isabeau to marry him.

"Jehan, she must love you in the same way. She would not still be putting up with you, if she did not!"

Claude tried to make his brother crack a smile.

The physician walked out, shaking his head.

"There is a small chance that she may live. Six chances in ten, she will die within a week."

Jehan nodded, shoving passed the man and into the bed chamber.

"Jehan!"

Isabeau sat up, weakly smiling.

Jehan could not bring himself to look at her, which led her to believe that something was definitely wrong.

"Jehan, what did the doctor say?"

She saw no use in beating around the bush.

"The bad news is that you could be dead within a week. The good news is that there is a small chance that you will live."

Isabeau was speechless. She wanted to reassure Jehan, but he was standing there trying to reassure her that she would live. She was being more realistic.

"Jehan, it is alright if I die. You love me and I'll die knowing that."

She beckoned him over to her. He lay down with her, holding her close.

* * *

"I have heard of you sir."

"So, my reputation proceeds me!"

Jehan laughed jovially.

"Yes, everyone says that I should ask for the money up front."

She saw him as a cocky little boy, which is what he was and what he had been. But she made him feel awkward and confused, something he had not felt in a long time.

"I have the money."

"Show me."

She took nothing off of him and whipped him into shape.

"Alright."

He opened his purse, showing her the large amount of coins.

"Fine. You have the money, but you came with the captain."

Jehan found this odd.

"And what does that mean?"

"Nothing. He and I just don't see eye to eye on certain things."

He could sense a small amount of sadness in her voice.

"He is my friend. We go out drinking together. That's what men do."

Jehan shrugged her sad intonation off.

"Really? I don't see any men here."

She closed the door to the bed chamber. She was a tough one. She had some sort of wall built around her and it all seemed to stem from the captain.

"You look quite young…"

"I may be young, but I have experience beyond my years!"

She rolled her eyes. She was not enthusiastic about a friend of Phoebus' being in the room. She wanted to get this over with.

"That's doubtful."

She scoffed. She seemed to want to challenge him and make him go away. But he was not going away and she kind of liked that he was staying.

"I find you very lovely, Isabeau. I think I lo…I think that maybe, I lo…love you."

Jehan was only partially serious. He liked her attitude and that she could cut him down to size. She commanded his respect. He had never uttered the word, "love" to any woman, unless it was in a drunken stupor and neither of them would remember it the next morning. He was only slightly inebriated and he would remember this night the next morning.

"Shut up!"

She smiled and laughed. She liked him.

"So, tell me, Jehan what is it that you do for a living?"

They sat on the bed, lying down, facing eachother.

"I am a student. My brother wants me to be a priest, like him."

She snorted. She could not picture this little boy as a man of God.

"So, do you want to be a priest?"

She was still smiling at him.

"No."

He laughed, shaking his head.

"What do you want to do then?"

"I don't know. I like being drunk, I like gambling…well, I like it when I win anyways. I like lying here, with you."

He leaned in, kissing her lips.

"So, you don't want anything out of life, other than fun? I can understand that. Leave the sincerity to those who can deal with it."

It wasn't that he had no ambition. He didn't know what he wanted out of life. He wanted to enjoy himself, but that was all he knew.

"What is it that you want out of life?"

Her smile suddenly faded.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm a whore, that's my life."

He could sense sadness in her voice again.

"In my experience women don't just become prostitutes over night and because they want to. They become prostitutes, because they have a need for money and no other options."

In a way, his explanation made her feel better.

"I want to marry a decent man someday. I want to be in love and I want him to love me."

Jehan smiled, giggling nervously. He wanted to be that man, but he knew that he would have to convince her of that.

"Jehan, you shouldn't be here. You're a kid and you're a good kid. You're a good kid, who has the potential to grow up into a good man, but you won't grow up by jumping from bed to bed and living only for fun. How many girls have you been with?"

Jehan blushed. In truth he had only been with two women. He regularly came to La Val D'Amour and drank, becoming so drunk that he could not pay. But he couldn't tell her that.

"I've been with…countless women…"

He cleared his throat, masking how inexperienced she made him feel.

"So I need not count that small of a number."

She giggled, seeing the embarrassment on his face.

"I've been with too many to count and they're all the same. They come in, they pay and I give them what they pay for. Some are better than others and some are worse than others. You're not like them. They're petty and selfish and you'd rather talk until sunrise."

She smiled, looking out the window and seeing the sky begin to turn red.

"I would rather have been having sex with you until the sun rose. But, seeing as how it's already morning…"

He placed his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her again.

"Next time."

She replied, giving him a promising smile.

"It's morning!"

Jehan groaned, realizing that he had to be back at the university.

"I have to leave! My brother will kill me, if I miss my morning classes!"

Isabeau had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew it couldn't be good. She gave him a short cut back to the university and he thanked her by leaving several coins on the bed. She hoped that he would be back again, but doubted that he would be back for her. Most men wanted to have fun and talking all night wasn't "fun" for most men. It should have told her something, when he showed up that night, asking for her by name. She didn't understand how he could say that he loved her, when he barely knew her, but in a way she reciprocated those feelings. She didn't want him to go away, but she couldn't bring herself to ever say she loved him.

* * *

"Jehan, do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?"

He remembered the first time they had made love…

* * *

Jehan showed up around seven. He asked for Isabeau and carried a faux sapphire necklace up to their usual room.

She had lit a fire and had wrapped herself in the blankets and was sitting on the bed.

"I see you're already in bed."

They had been seeing one another for six months and she never tired of seeing him. Most nights they sat up and talked, or they played drinking games. Amazingly she was the first and only woman to drink him under the table.

"Funny."

He bent to kiss her cheek.

"I brought you something."

He whispered, holding out a small box.

"It's beautiful!"

Her voice was sincere and shocked.

"No one has ever given me anything like this. Thank you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. She knew it was fake, but she didn't care.

"It…It isn't real. I thought it would match your lovely eyes…and…and…and I've never felt this way about anyone, and I love you and…and will you marry me? Someday I'll be able to give you a real sapphire necklace and we'll look back on this moment and laugh and be happy…"

He was babbling and she wanted him to stop. She kissed him, pressing him back onto the bed. He was good at kissing.

"So, will you marry me?"

"Jehan…You know I can't. What man wants to be married to a whore?"

"I do. It won't be easy and you won't be a whore once we're married…"

She looked back at the necklace with a sad look in her eyes.

"Keep it. Keep it, knowing that I love you and that someday we will be married and happy."

She kissed him again, unlacing his hoisiers. She understood why he had given her the gift and why he was asking her to marry him. He wanted her to pleasure him.

He placed his arms around her and allowed her to take control. She pressed herself against him, thinking about his gift and his sincerity. She liked the fact that he loved her and wanted to marry her.

"Oh Jehan!"

He watched, as she squirmed over him, her breasts a mere centimeters away from his mouth. She was teaching him how to pleasure a woman. She taught him how to glide his hands over a woman, and where to touch a woman. She pressed her lips to his, making him mad with heat! He pressed back, sitting up, his arms around her back.

"Isabeau you're beautiful! So beautiful!"

He felt her grinding her pelvis against his and she could feel him rubbing against her most sensitive area.

"Jehan! Jehan! Jehan!"

She arched her back, pressing into him, feeling his hands reach up and caress her hair. He could not compare it to even the softest of Chinese silks. It felt magnificent! He brought a handful to his nose and inhaled, savoring her scent. She smelled of camphor and lavender. He had smelled the same aroma several hundred times before, but for some reason, at this very moment it was the most heavenly scent on earth.

"Oh my Isabeau!"

He took the time to taste her lips. They tasted like apples. He suddenly liked the taste of apples.

She felt him, ready to climax and pressed herself as close as she could to him.

"Isabeau I love you!"

* * *

Jehan remembered everything about that night. But, that was not the first time he had told her that he loved her.

"I told you that I loved you the first time we met. I didn't mean it then, but I mean it now."

She looked at him, tears in her eyes.

"Jehan, I remember when you promised me that we would look back on those days and everything would be different. I never thought that you could be serious about anything, but you proved me wrong and I thank you for that."

* * *

Once she was certain Jehan was asleep she kissed his lips. He looked like a sweet little boy, so innocent and loving.

"I love you too Jehan."


	40. If Today Was Your Last Day

Thanks for the reviews!!!

I haven't updated in what seems like forever. I have a good reason...I've been working and trying to become a mature/responsible adult. I've been going to the gym, trying to get back in school, paying bills...part of me hates it and just wants to have fun, the other part likes being responsible. You know how most people have a little devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other? I have a Jehan on one shoulder and a Claude on the other. LOL!

I do need some help in wraiting the next chapter though...

Everyone who thinks I shoul kill off Isabeau please say "Yes."

If you think Isabeau shoul get better and live say "No."

I'll count up all the answers and write the chapter accordingly.

Anyways Nickleback owns the song, Hugo owns the characters.

Summary: Fleur makes an unlikely friend. Claude and Esme start talking about death.

Preview: Fleur incurs her mother's wrath because of her new friend. Fleur makes peace with Isabeau, Jehan, Claude and Esme. Fleur has an ulterior motive for doing so. Claude and Gringoire have a talk. Esme begins wondering about Heaven and Hell.

* * *

Fleur-De-Lys was about to take the first sip of the deadly concoction, when she heard someone enter the room.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The voice was severe and cold.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm drinking wine in the middle of the day."

The figure flew from the entrance of the parlor to Fleur-De-Lys in one movement. A hand slapped the goblet from Fleur-De-Lys' hand.

"Mother!"

Madame Aloise's unkind eyes roamed over her daughter.

"You are not my daughter. My daughter would not be sitting alone in a room, drinking like some hussy."

Fleur-De-Lys stood, attempting to appear strong.

"This is your daughter's way of dealing with what has happened."

She pushed passed the old woman, making her way to her bed chamber.

"You are not unhappy that your husband is dead?"

This question stopped Fleur-De-Lys in her tracks.

"Phoebus loved you, and this is what you think of that love?"

Fleur-De-Lys scoffed and turned to face her mother.

"No. Mother, he did not love me. He loved our money, he loved the social standing. Phoebus did not love me. He loved the fact that he could go out and fool around with any woman of his choosing and I would never call him on it. He did not love me."

Fleur-De-Lys had ended the conversation and had turned away again.

"This is how you honor your husband?"

Obviously Madame Aloise did not understand that Fleur-De-Lys had no desire to continue this conversation.

"Mother, he never once honored me. He was not a faithful man, not even in marriage. For months he chased after that little gypsy demon!"

"What gypsy?"

Fleur-De-Lys shook her head, trying not to cry.

"The one who has been masquerading as Agnes all this time. He will be thought of as a hero, a good man, an honest and faithful man! He was not. He sired a daughter with an ex-whore and did all he could to hide that fact!"

She was on the verge of tears.

"We can fix this."

"Mother, I don't want to fix this! There is nothing that can be 'fixed!'"

Madame Aloise leaned in and smacked her daughter across the face.

"You are hysterical! Stop! We will fix this and you will clean yourself up. There are other men who have, over the years showed some interest in you."

Fleur-De-Lys' expression was outraged, mingled with confusion.

"My husband; the unfaithful cad that he was, just died and all you can think of doing is helping to find another man?"

"I can not have you lounging about, drinking your life away. What would people say?"

Madame Aloise gave her daughter an astonished look.

"What people?"

"Our friends! Now, clean yourself up. I have arranged for you to meet a nice young man…"

"No. What friends? And should they not support how I wish to grieve the loss of my husband? I don't want to meet your friend. I don't want to meet any man."

Madame Aloise cornered her daughter in the chair.

"Would you rather they talk and call you a spinster?"

"Let them call me what they will. How is forcing me to marry another man, just after Phoebus died any different from what the woman at La Val D'Amour do?"

Madame Aloise gave her child a disgusted and frightened look.

"How dare you compare yourself to them! You are a lady. You were taught morals and are held to a much higher standard. I expect you start acting as such."

Madame Aloise backhanded her daughter, the sound echoed throughout the house.

"Mother, you're not listening to what I want! You only care for what makes you happy!"

Madame Aloise had glided to the door and stood, facing her daughter.

"I am having a small party this evening and I expect you to be there, ready to meet a few friends of mine. If you choose not to be there, then consider yourself disinherited."

With that the old woman left.

* * *

Jehan sat in a chair beside Isabeau. He held her hand and watched her eyes open and close. She had just woken up and was catching her bearings.

"Jehan, will you remarry after I'm gone?"

Her voice was barely a whisper. He had never thought about what he would do, if she were to die. In the short time that they were married, the subject had never come up. She saw the puzzled look on his face and decided to relieve him of the expression.

"You have my permission to remarry, if you want to."

"Don't talk like that. You'll be fine…"

He saw a somber look in her eyes.

"It just occurred to me, that I never told you my secret."

She looked him point blank in the eye.

"I was not always a whore, you know. I was not born into that lifestyle. I was once a lady. My mother and father both died when I was very young, my aunt raised me until I was twenty and then I met a wonderful man! He and I were to be wed in June, about three years ago."

Her voice was shaking, but as this could possibly be her last day alive she felt the need to tell him everything.

"One evening some friends and I were out, we had stumbled into some tavern. We became separated and I could no longer see them through the crowd. Then, there was this gallant and handsome blond man who called me over to his table. He and I talked a little, before leaving the tavern and we talked a little more, as he led me elsewhere. Had I known what he had in mind that night, I never would have followed him. Jehan, you have asked me several times before why I hated the captain; he stole what had once been very precious to me, my virtue. After what he did to me, I didn't think I could return to my family or show my face in 'polite society' again. I didn't think my fiancé would want me. And then, a year ago he waltzed into La Val D'Amour. He did not recognize me, but I recognized him. He was married and unfaithful. He had forgotten about me. Jehan, since we have been married have you gone to La Val D'Amour?"

"No. I have no need to. Isabeau, I married you, took a vow in a church to forsake all others. Why would I pay for what I can get for free?"

He chuckled, trying to make her smile. He hated being serious and hated the thought of life without his best friend.

"Technically, I did go once. I was paying off an old debt. I had absolutely no fun whatsoever."

He felt the need to clarify that it had not been a pleasurable outing.

"I want you to raise Emilee to be a lady. I want her to be respected and admired. I don't want her to have to earn a living the way I did."

"She'll have you to teach her how to act like a dignified lady. I promise you, that in three days time you will be well again. Isabeau, you can't leave me now. You and I have too many things to experience as a married couple. We need to experience everything my brother and Esmeralda have gone through; the kicking, screaming, fighting. We haven't had our first real argument yet. You can't die until we do. I won't let you. I will defy God, the laws of physics, time…and any other impossible feat to keep you here on this earth, until we have our first argument. Then and only then will I allow you to die."

She smiled.

"Isabeau, do you still have that mock sapphire necklace I gave you ages ago?"

"Yes. I have kept it all this time. I remember when you gave it to me."

She watched as he stood up and left the room.

* * *

Esmeralda and Claude were lying on their bed, reading together. Esmeralda couldn't take her mind off of what was happening with Isabeau and couldn't concentrate on reading.

"Claude?"

Her head had been resting on his chest.

"What is it Esmeralda?"

He was busy reading, consumed by the book.

"What would you do if I were to die?"

At the sound of this question, Claude stopped reading and closed the book. He looked down at his wife, his eyes full of shock and fear.

"You can't possibly be thinking about dying now! You are healthy and…"

"What would you do though?"

He could hear the importance of the question and knew that she wanted a serious answer.

"I would…I don't know. The subject of you dying has never crossed my mind before. Is this because of Isabeau?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"I would be very sad. I would hate living without you."

"Would you remarry?"

Claude had never really thought about any woman other than his wife. He never had any reason to think romantically about any other woman.

"I don't think I would remarry. I wouldn't want to. Life wouldn't be the same without you."

He was much older than his sweet wife and could not foresee her dying before he did.

"What if I were to die? I am much older than you Esmeralda. Logic would dictate that I would be the first to die, primarily due to age, or poor health."

Esmeralda pouted, realizing that what Claude said was true.

"I don't know. I love you and can't imagine feeling the same love for any other man."

She sat up and he kissed his forehead.

"What do you think Heaven looks like?"

Esmeralda had grown up with almost no religious background. She relied on her imagination to give her some idea of what the afterlife would be like.

"I think that Heaven will be a peaceful place. It will be like the Garden of Eden. Everyone will have complete knowledge at their disposal. There will be nothing bad, only good and pure."

To Claude, heaven was more like church, than anything else. It would be a place to pray, to enjoy all that God had to offer in a religious sense.

"I think Heaven is on a cloud somewhere. There are no limits, everyone is free."

To Esmeralda Heaven was more of an ideal world, where nothing bad ever happened and everyone was happy. To her, Heaven was a utopia.

"I don't think I've said this much since we were married, but I love you Esmeralda."

* * *

Fleur-De-Lys had been given time to think about what she would do now that Phoebus was dead. She didn't want to rush into becoming someone else's wife, especially if that someone happened to be one of her mother's friends. She had thought about her own death. To her, death was some romantic notion. She would be asleep, her soul would be taken to Heaven and she would be reunited with Phoebus. In her mind, death held little pain and was to be quick. Before Phoebus died, she had never once seen a dead body, she had never watched a man die. She realized how sheltered she was. Death was not some romantic fairytale. Death was painful, death was everlasting. The biggest problem with death was that no one ever came back from Heaven, Hell, or even Purgatory and gave her an idea of what it was like. Death was not just some long nap. Death was an everlasting tomb, rotting flesh and maggots. There were no guarantees in death. Death did not guarantee a place in Heaven, death only guaranteed never again waking. She wanted to be sure she could get into Heaven. There was no guarantee that Phoebus would be waiting for her in Heaven.

"No!"

She shuddered at the thought of him being anywhere, but Heaven.

She had grown bored, sitting in the chair and thinking about death. She wanted to find someone to talk to. Her friends would not be empathetic to her situation. Her friends spoke of jewelry, fabric, fashions and when the time called for it, men. They rarely spoke of anything outside the common gossip and death would be too severe a discussion for them to handle. To them death was something that happened when you grew old and unhealthy. Youth gave them the illusion of immortality.

At last she stood and opened the door. She did not know where she would go, or who she would talk to. She had friends and she had enemies. Those were the only two factions of people in her life. There was no one she could talk to. She would not be welcome in the Francois household, nor would she be welcomed in the Frollo household. Her world was the size of a needle's eye. She felt herself begin to knock on the door of the Francois house.

"They aren't there."

It was a masculine voice, one she had heard once before. She turned to see who the voice belonged to.

"They are not home. They went out for a walk."

She nodded.

"I think I know you."

The man stated, trying to remember where he had seen her before.

"You are Ag…Esmeralda's friend, are you not?"

Fleur-De-Lys saw no use in carrying on with the charade of calling Esmeralda "Agnes." If this man was her friend, then he would know her by her gypsy name.

"I am. And you are the girl who accosted her one day. You were trying to get her to confess to being Esmeralda."

Fleur-De-Lys looked down, sheepishly.

"My name is Fleur-De-Lys. I am sorry, I do not know yours."

"And why should I tell you my name?"

She had no answer.

"Listen, if you are looking to out her as Esmeralda, try back some other day. As I have told you, they are not home. They went for a walk and there is no telling when they will be home. You can stand there and wait all night if you like to, but don't expect me to come by and make sure you are safe."

With that the man walked on, holding a rope which was tied to a little white goat.

She had not expected him to stay with her. She had only expected him to tell her his name. She too walked on. Her feet had led her to the Frollo household. She lifted her hand to knock at the door, but heard a voice behind her.

"Girl, who is it that you are looking for? What is it that you want?"

Fleur-De-Lys recognized the man's voice. She turned, half smiling.

"The woman who is married to Jehan Frollo is very ill. You should not expect either of them to answer."

She regarded him with a slow smile.

"Are you following me sir?"

The man rolled his eyes.

"I am walking my goat."

Fleur-De-Lys walked over to pet the goat.

"This is Esmeralda's goat, isn't it? What are you doing with her goat?"

"Yes, it is. Esmeralda could not keep the goat, for obvious reasons. Being her friend, I took the goat, so that she could still spend time with the animal."

Fleur-De-Lys nodded, understanding why Esmeralda had given the goat to this man.

"You are a gypsy then?"

The man cleared his throat, before speaking.

"I am many things; poet, philosopher, architectural enthusiast. I keep all in equilibrium. My profession does not define me young miss."

Fleur-De-Lys rolled her eyes as the man rambled on.

"Of course your profession defines you. It is what you do and what you are."

The man chuckled. He did not agree.

"In that case, I am an assistant tutor. I help Esmeralda's husband in teaching children Latin, how to read and write."

"But you were once a gypsy? That is how you know Esmeralda, is it not?"

"Yes. She and I were supposed to be married for a period of four years. It was a gypsy wedding…she only married me to save my life."

He felt odd talking about his "marriage" to Esmeralda. He felt even stranger, knowing that he had never introduced himself to this girl he had been speaking to.

"My name is Pierre Gringoire by the way."

Gringoire bowed slightly, as a sign of respect. Fleur-De-Lys curtseyed.

"Who is it that you are looking for?"

"I don't know."

She had attempted knocking on the door of the Francois household, and the Frollo household. She appeared sad and confused.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Yes. I've been looking for someone to talk to. Everyone I know is too consumed with daily gossip and wouldn't care to hear me out. I thought that perhaps I should seek the advice from someone else for a change."

"Come, you can tell me what is troubling you. I have two good ears and all the time in the world to listen to the problems of a pretty girl."

He offered her his arm, but she shook her head.

"Are you sure? It might be a while before Claude and Esmeralda return home."

"Thank you, but I should not go off with a man I have just met."

Though he seemed safe and kind, she was no longer sure of who she could trust.

"Perhaps another time then."

With that he walked off.

It was near sunset when Jehan arrived home. He spotted a girl waiting on the doorstep.

"Fleur-De-Lys?"

"Jehan! I…"

He gave her a puzzled look.

"I was looking for someone to talk to and…and no one else was around."

"It is getting late. Listen, go home and sleep on it. Tomorrow morning I will be more prepared to sit and chat, but right now my time is very precious to me."

He spoke to her in a gentle manner. He did not see the use in yelling and causing a scene.

"Thank you."

She replied and started walking back to the Francois household.

"Isabeau!"

Isabeau had finally regained enough strength to stand up, which gave Jehan hope. He smiled, walking into their bed chamber.

"I was up, walking around a little while ago. The pain in my stomach has started going away. It doesn't hurt as much now. I think I'm getting better."

She forced a smile, she forced herself to keep standing, she forced all thoughts of pain out of her head.

"I brought you something."

He held out a sapphire necklace.

"It's real. It's to replace that old fake one. We can begin reminiscing now and laughing about the old days."

Though she tried to mask the pain, he saw it and he now forced a smile and a chuckle.

"I don't want to replace the old fake necklace. That one has so many happy memories for me. It was something good when times were bad. This one is lovely, but it can't replace what the old one represents."

"I kept my promise. I remember when I gave you that fake one, I told you that someday I'd be able to purchase a real one."

She kissed his cheek, thanking him for keeping his promise to her.

"Someday, when you are better, we will look back on this moment and laugh. I promise."

He had a habit of keeping his promises to her and did not intend to break this one.

"What if I don't get better? That is something we both need to prepare for."

"I will prepare for that when the time comes."

He kissed her lips. After all these years, they still tasted like apples.

He sat down in the chair, by the bed. She lay back down and held his hand. If today was going to be her last day alive, then she wanted to spend the night by her husband's side.

* * *

"Returning home?"

Fleur-De-Lys heard Gringoire's voice once again.

"No. I'm going to my mother's home. She's having a party this evening and wants me to attend."

"For such a joyous occasion you do not sound happy."

"I am not happy."

Gringoire gave her a look of confusion.

"The party is only to find me a suitable husband. I don't understand why I need to remarry so soon. Phoebus just died and I don't want to marry one of my mother's friends!"

"I can see why you would be so unhappy."

They stood together at the entryway of Madame Aloise's home. Fleur-De-Lys dreaded going in.

"No. I think I would rather not attend."

Fleur-De-Lys said with a defiant air.

"Are you still looking for someone to talk to?"

"No. I think I would prefer the company of a friend this evening."

Gringoire smiled, offering his hand to her. This time she took it and he led her in the direction of his home.

Fleur-De-Lys would incur her mother's wrath tomorrow morning. She would hear gossip and hushed tones tomorrow afternoon. She would be prepared to make amends with Isabeau and Esmeralda tomorrow in between her mother's harsh words and being stared at by her friends. But tonight she had a friend.

* * *

"Who should we leave the children with, in the event that we both die?"

"There's Jehan and Isabeau, but they have Emilee. And of course Gringoire can always be relied upon."

Claude held Esmeralda, who was holding little Esme. Claude-Maurice had just been fed and was now sleeping in his crib.

"Claude, do you think Isabeau will be alright?"

"She may be slightly ill, she may be seriously. I can not say for sure. I hope that she will be fine."

"No, that isn't what I meant."

Claude gave her an interested look.

"What I meant to ask, is where will she go in the event that she does die?"

Isabeau was Esmeralda's friend and she wanted her friend to be waiting in Heaven for her.

"That is not for me to judge. She has done many things which will count against her, however in the eyes of the Lord all that is needed is to ask for forgiveness. In my opinion, she has been granted forgiveness."

He placed Esmeralda's mind at ease, kissing her and caressing her hair.

Esmeralda stood, placing Esme in her crib.

"Claude, I don't think I'd want to live after your death."

She frowned and he could see small tears in her eyes.

She threw herself into his arms and held him as close as she could.

"I'm not dying. I'm not going to die for quite some time."

He knew that these words would have little effect on her.

"I know, but I don't want it to happen."

It was a childish request however it was sweet in its naivety.

Claude sat on the bed, holding her and wondered if Jehan was doing the same with Isabeau.


	41. Please Don't Leave Me Part 1

Hey all. Sorry for the long absence. Work has been keeping me busy and my old computer got infected with a nasty spyware infection. I went ahead and purchased a new computer, because the cost of fixing the old one would have been astronomical!!!

Anyways, thanks for the reviews and those of you who voted on Isabeau's final, or not so final moment, here it is.

Summary: Gringoire has a flagging…I mean dinner to attend with Isabeau and Madame Aloise. Claude and Esme have a few arguments and Claude actually wins one. Esme tells Claude that she no longer believes in God.

Please note: This chapter does get a little sexual.

Preview: The dinner. The argument between Claude and Esme. If you guessed that Esme brings up Phoebus, you guessed right! Claude comes to a conclusion regarding his wife, which leads to him giving her an ultimatum. Fleur-De-Lys' true feelings about Phoebus are shown.

Not sure if the next chapter, or the chapter after that will be the last chapter. This one is so long, because I haven't updated in about a month and decided to make a long chapter.

Pink owns the song, Hugo the characters.

* * *

"I want to know just what you think you are doing!"

Madame Aloise demanded, grabbing the goblet from her daughter's hand.

"I was having a glass of wine, before you came in."

The old woman shook her head.

"No. I heard about you running through the streets at all hours of the night with some man. Who is he?"

Madame Aloise found no need to beat around the bush.

"He's no one you would know."

"What is his relationship to you? Are you friends? Are you lovers? My God you had better not be pleasuring that man!"

Fleur-De-Lys shook her head, negatively.

"He is a friend. He is nothing more than a friend."

"His profession?"

"He assists Agnes' husband in tutoring."

Madame Aloise sneered.

"He is common then."

She allowed the disdain to drip from her jaws.

"As am I, as are you…"

"Bite your tongue! He are held at a much higher standard."

Fleur-De-Lys rolled her eyes. It was the only response she could think of.

"You know, I would like to meet this man."

"What?"

"I want to know what his true intentions are with my daughter. What could a man possibly want with a young girl whose husband recently died?"

It was a rhetorical question and Madame Aloise knew the answer.

"No. I don't want you to meet him. I don't want you to have anything to do with my friendship with him."

". It was the only response she could think of.

"You know, I would like to meet this man."

"What?"

"I want to know what his true intentions are with my daughter. What could a man possibly want with a young girl whose husband recently died?"

It was a rhetorical question and Madame Aloise knew the answer.

"No. I don't want you to meet him. I don't want you to have anything to do with my friendship with him."

"You and he are to dine with me this evening. I will be expecting you at four o'clock and not a moment later."

With that she left. Madame Aloise was hatching a plan, one that would strip Fleur-De-Lys' new friend of everything and show the girl who the man truly was.

She stepped out onto the street, looking around to catch her bearings. She swiftly and elegantly walked to the Francoise house. She knocked once, but there was no answer. She knocked a second time, but still there was no answer. She knocked a third time and waited. She could hear a baby crying and peered into a window. She saw the child's mother wake from a nap and rush to the child's side.

* * *

"Hello."

A masculine voice shook Madame Aloise from her reverie.

"May I help you?"

The voice was deep, strong and stern.

For a moment the lady had forgotten why she had come here.

"I need to speak with you. It is in regards to a friend of yours sir."

"A friend of mine?"

Claude was bewildered.

"Yes. He has taken a liking to my daughter and I need every bit of information you can give me about him."

"Would you like to come in?"

He barely knew this woman. In fact all that he knew about her was that she was the mother of Fleur-De-Lys and Phoebus' cousin.

"Which friend are we talking about?"

Madame Aloise stepped inside, looking down at the frightened Esmeralda holding her daughter. The old woman cringed at the sight, but quickly turned her attention back to Claude.

"Your assistant."

"Ah! That would be Master Pierre Gringoire."

Madame Aloise nodded, hoping he would go on from there.

"How well do you know this man sir?"

"I know him quite well. He used to be a student of mine."

He looked down at his wife and gently asked her to leave the room, so that he and Madame Aloise could speak in private.

"Of course."

Upon leaving she made it a point to kiss him on the cheek. She knew not what would be said about Gringoire, what would be said to Claude or what this woman wanted, but she wanted to reassure Claude in some way.

"A student you say? And what did he study?"

"Letters."

Claude shrugged of the icy tone and grimaces of Madame Aloise.

"Is there anything else?"

"He…he was once married."

He was not sure if he should be disclosing such delicate information without Gringoire there.

"Ah! Marriage! And who was his wife?"

Claude thought a moment. Surely word of who "Agnes" really was had gotten to this woman by now.

"He was once married to Esmeralda."

The woman frowned.

"That little tart with the demon goat? The little she demon who seduced my daughter's husband…"

Claude hated how this woman was talking about his wife. He was ready to defend his lady's honor and scold Madame Aloise for what she was saying.

"She was the little gypsy witch who escaped from her prison, was she not? Ha! I knew that this Gringoire could not be all right and pure!"

"She never allowed him to touch her. She never consummated the marriage to Gringoire and the marriage did not take place in a church."

He felt little duty in defending Gringoire, but no one had the right to insult or sully his wife's good name.

"What concerns you so about master Gringoire?"

"I believe him to be taken with my daughter, or at the very least, she is taken with him."

"Gringoire is a fine man. He wrote the morality play at the Festival of Fools this past year. He is an honest and hardworking man…"

"I do not care sir. If he is not a gentleman, then I do not wish him to be near my daughter. Phoebus was a gentleman."

Another reminder of how wonderful the captain was, but Claude let this last comment slide.

"Is that all you needed to know?"

"Yes, you have given me more than enough information."

With that she walked out, leaving Claude confused.

* * *

"Esmeralda? Has Gringoire spoken to you in the past few days?"

Claude slipped into their bed chamber, his wife was busy feeding Esme.

"No. He has been preoccupied with another woman."

She replied with mock sadness and in an overly dramatic tone.

"The other woman is Fleur-De-Lys."

"Does he love her?"

Claude shrugged.

"Her mother thinks he does."

"Does she love him?"

"Her mother seems to think it so."

Claude shrugged once more.

"I am going to check in on my brother and Isabeau."

He kissed her cheek, letting her know that he would return before supper time.

"She seems to be getting better. I saw her yesterday and she was sitting up, without the pillows to support her."

Claude knelt down to see his smiling daughter.

"You behave yourself my little one. And don't allow your brother to wake you again with his crying."

With that Claude turned to leave.

* * *

Esmeralda sat on the bed and continued looking into her daughter's eyes. Holding this tiny bundle made her feel almost immortal, Godlike and at the same time vulnerable and scared. This life in her arms meant the world to her, as did her son. These little beings depended upon her for survival. She felt as though her children took every sin, any amount of wrongdoing away. She was once again pure and innocent, but she wondered if these were the only eyes that saw her in that light.

There were some nights when she did not sleep, she could not sleep; not because she was madly in love with Claude, or not tired enough to sleep. She was plenty tired after caring for her children and taking care of the household all day. And she loved Claude terribly! Half the time she would initiate making love to him. She often was awake, wondering about her soul, about death. She knew that she was innocent of any crimes, she had never once harmed anyone. She was a good wife and a wonderful mother to her children. But she was not entirely sure that God existed. There was a time when she prayed to God, so that she would either die quickly, or Phoebus would rescue her. God had let her down. And, yet, Claude had rescued her and she was more than grateful. Though she tried to understand why God would want people to go through so much misery and pain on earth she could not come to a full realization as to why. She worried, as she feared the alternative to paradise; Hell. She feared burning, skin peeling from her flesh for all eternity. She feared where her husband might be sent. He had been a man of God. He had once served God…she had led him astray and she knew that she would be punished for that. But, he had given in to temptation and he had used every means necessary to get what he wanted. Yet, he believed whole heartedly in God. She knew that he would be forgiven and ascend to Heaven. She did not want to be separated from him in the afterlife, if there was an afterlife. She was filled with doubt about religion, God, death and afterlife. She wondered if those were the type of thoughts that kept other people awake at night. Claude had found her more than a few times, lying on the pallet in the parlor, gazing out the window at the night's sky. She was pondering eternity and souls.

Jehan led Claude into the bed chamber, where Isabeau was sitting.

"Feeling better I see!"

"The pain has been lessening."

She was still pale and he could tell that she was masking the pain.

"Have you been walking much?"

"I've taken a few steps here and there."

She began to stand up. Claude and Jehan both held their breath.

"See, I'm fine."

She walked over to her husband and kissed him.

"You are getting better, but it will take time for you to fully recover."

She wanted to ask him how much more time it would take, but knew he would not have the answer.

"How are Esmeralda and the babies?"

She quickly changed the subject, not wanting anymore attention directed at her illness.

"Esmeralda has been having trouble sleeping, but the babies are doing quite well."

"Do you know why she has been having trouble sleeping?"

Jehan questioned.

"I have asked her, but she always lies to me and tells me that she likes looking at the stars and the moon."

Claude sighed, knowing from experience why she woke up in the middle of the night.

"She doesn't realize that I know her reason for not being able to sleep, but I do. She wants to know what condition her soul is in."

Isabeau nodded.

"Finding God is not always easy Claude."

Isabeau said reassuringly.

There was a brief time when Claude had felt abandoned by God. God had not answered his prayers to make the temptation go away. God had put him through his own personal Hell, yet in loving Esmeralda Claude's belief in God had increased ten-fold! Seeing that much innocence and kindness in one girl on earth reinforced God's teachings.

"Why is it that losing faith is so easy, yet finding it is so difficult?"

Claude questioned to himself.

"We feel the need for proof."

Isabeau seemed to have all the answers when it came to matters of God.

"On a lighter note, I have been sitting up more. I might even walk through the house later today! It has been over a week and I am still living."

Isabeau changed the subject, not wanting to continue such a heavy subject as God.

In her heart she felt that she and God had reached an agreement three years ago. She believed in some divine, universal being, but it was not the same "God" that Claude worshipped. To her, God was in everything and God was more like a companion, rather than something people should fear.

Claude nodded, knowing that the doctor had been wrong.

"How often have you been eating?"

Claude questioned, wanting to make certain that she was feeling better.

"For the past few days I've been eating two meals a day and keeping them down. How has Esmeralda been?"

Isabeau wanted to get off the subject of her illness.

"She has been well, although I have found her in the parlor late at night at least half a dozen times."

"And what do you expect it to be?"

"I do not know. When I find her, her eyes are turned upwards and she appears lost in thought. When she hears my voice it wakes her and I can see a longing in her eyes…a sad longing."

Isabeau knew what that longing must be. It was the longing to know all the answers.

"I had better be off, I promised Esmeralda that I would be home for supper."

He knelt to kiss Isabeau's cheek and wished her well, before shaking his brother's hand and seeing himself out.

* * *

"Claude."

Gringoire walked up to Claude, an unhappy look on his face.

"Master Pierre, what is wrong?"

Claude's face registered concern, though he knew why his friend was unhappy.

"I have met a woman."

"Well, I can see how that would be bad."

Claude replied dryly.

"I'm not in love and she doesn't love me. This girl is of a higher class and I fear what her mother might do to me…"

Claude chuckled.

"Madame Aloise came by this afternoon. She asked a few questions about you."

This did not make Gringoire feel any better.

"She has requested that I join both she and her daughter tonight for supper."

Claude nodded.

"I need a drink…"

Gringoire's voice was panicked. He grabbed Claude's arm and drug him along.

"And why do I need to come along?"

"I need someone to talk to."

Gringoire led Claude into a tavern.

"I need to get home to Esmeralda. I promised her that I would be home by supper…"

Gringoire ordered a drink for himself and one for Claude.

"What do you wish to talk about?"

"The girl needed someone to talk to! I saw a pretty young girl in need of help. I brought her back to the inn with me. We talked, nothing more. Now her mother wishes to meet me."

Gringoire buried his face in his hands.

"Do you want her as a lover?"

Claude asked, taking a swig of mead.

"I do not want her as a lover, nor a fiancée, nor a wife."

"Then I do not see the problem here."

Gringoire felt that the issue was obvious.

"Obviously the girl wants me as a lover, a fiancee…or something more substantial than a companion. And now this girl's mother wants me to marry her!"

Claude kept taking large swigs of mead to dull the sensation of this conversation.

"Is she in love with you?"

"I should hope not! Her husband recently passed away."

Claude could feel his head becoming fuzzy.

"What advice do you want me to give? Do you want me to tell you to marry the girl? Do you want me to tell you to stop seeing this girl? I can not. This is between you and this girl. My only advice is that you see her before you dine with her mother. Sort things out with her. You'll get nowhere sitting in a tavern with me."

Claude stood, placing his hands on the table to steady himself.

* * *

Claude stumbled home.

"You're late."

Esmeralda smiled and spoke playfully.

"Gringoire ambushed me. He will be dinning with Madame Aloise and Fleur-De-Lys tonight."

Esmeralda nodded.

"Your eyes are different."

He placed two fingers under her chin, tilting her chin towards him, giving him a full view of those lovely dark eyes.

"How so?"

"They're sad."

He released her, and spoke to himself.

"You're sad…"

Then he turned back to her.

"Are you sad my dear?"

Esmeralda shook her head.

"No. I have been feeling a mite tired, but that is from motherhood."

Claude knew she was lying, but had no idea what the truth was.

"I see you sometimes. You don't think that I see you when you wake up late at night and sit in the parlor, but I do. You look as though you're trying to find something, trying to remember something."

She wanted to tell him that she no longer believed in God, but didn't know how.

"Claude…"

She started to tell him.

"I am trying to find something, but I don't know what it is yet."

Claude nodded, trying to understand. He had never not believed in God, not a day went by when he did not know that God was watching over him. But Esmeralda was a superstition gypsy girl; for her God had come and gone in so many forms. God had never been one steady and constant force in her life, as it had been in his.

"Claude, I have something serious to tell you."

Her voice was low and shaking, as though she feared what he might say.

"Esmeralda, you are sad. I can see it in your eyes and at night when you are in my arms I can sense that you are unhappy. Are you unhappy with me?"

In a small way she was unhappy with Claude. He had been a man of God, he had made promises to God and she watched and saw how easily those same vows were broken and how at some point in Claude's life those vows ceased to matter. His religion had driven him mad and surely no good could come from a God who did not want all of his children to experience pure joy and love. How God could abandon one of his own seemed unreal to her.

"Claude do you still love God?"

It was a delicate question.

"Of course I do!"

Claude was taken aback to this forward question.

"I do not see what God has to do with whether or not you are unhappy with me."

His main concern was that she still loved him and that she was kept happy.

"God has more to do with my happiness than you would think Claude."

She sighed, looking away from him.

"And what does that mean?"

Claude turned her to face him again.

"I don't know how to tell you…"

"My sweet do you still worry about where your soul is headed?"

He kissed her lips, gently reassuring her that she would join him in Heaven.

"Claude this is important!"

She shouted, backing away from him.

She was on the verge of tears, biting her bottom lip and clenching her fists.

Claude listened attentively, ready to receive whatever words she might offer.

"I…I…I do not believe…"

Her voice had been no more than a whisper and trailed off as she saw the hopeful look in her husband's eyes. She cleared her throat, mustering up the strength to speak again.

"I do not believe in God anymore."

She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the worst. She clenched her jaw, awaiting the smack across her face. She waited and it didn't come.

She reopened her eyes tentatively to see him there. A disgusted grimace flashed over his face. He was speechless and motionless. She wanted to hear him speak, if only to hear him damn her to Hell.

"Say something!"

Her voice quivered.

"Why?"

His voice shook with anger.

"How can you not believe in God?"

He shouted, resisting the urge to slap her.

The "how" and the "why" were the more difficult reasons to explain.

"It didn't happen all at once. I…It happened little by little. It began the day Charmolue forced himself on me. I felt it grow when…"

The next part of the "why" and "how" would possibly push Claude over the edge.

"When Phoebus died."

She had no choice, but to say it. Claude could hear those words, before they were said. He gritted his teeth and felt his hand rise. The back of his right hand made contact with her left cheek.

"You do not believe in God and now you bring the captain into this!"

She did not stop there.

"And when the doctor told us that Isabeau might die I felt the lack of belief strengthen."

"Get out of my sight Esmeralda!"

He lifted his arm, pointing to the door. He was not angered by the fact that she had a moment of weakness in her religious beliefs, but the fact that the captain had a hand in it enraged him.

Esmeralda hesitated, trying to comfort him and convince him that the captain had little to do with her beliefs.

"Get out of my sight before I do something we will both regret. Get out Esmeralda."

He growled, trying to control the hatred in his voice.

"You're angry, but what for? Claude I am trying to believe in God again. I've been praying and talking to God late at night."

She saw his eyes soften slightly.

"I am angry, because…"

He could not let on that he felt a twinge of jealousy towards her dead first love.

"Death has more to do with my recent thoughts than anything else."

Her eyes were sincere, though her voice shook with fear.

He had slapped her and she feared what else he might do. She noticed his face becoming calmer.

"You did not think that he had so much to do with my beliefs?"

She bravely stepped forward, placing her arms around his waist.

He pushed her arms away.

"Get out of here Esmeralda."

He whispered, warning her one last time.

* * *

Esmeralda silently and reluctantly obeyed. That had not gone as she had planned. Esmeralda had planned for Claude to take her in his arms and help her find a way to believe in God again; after all, that was what she had wanted. She had wanted his help. But she had mentioned the captain and it was clear that Claude could not control his jealousy.

Claude sat down, his head felt heavy in his hand. Had she not mentioned her precious captain, who even in death could attract the girl; his wife, He would have been able to have taken her into his arms and help her. He fumed over the fact that Phoebus had something to do with his wife's current predicament.

Esmeralda thought it best to let her husband cool off. She meandered through the streets, trying to decide what she wanted to do. She gazed at the fabrics and realized what she wanted to be doing; she wanted to talk to her husband. She didn't care how angry he was with her. He had no reason to be angry with her. She marched back home, swinging the bedroom door open.

"I told you that I no longer believed in God, because I wanted your help. Everyone I care about is slowly being taken away from me and I don't understand why that is. First the captain, next it may be Isabeau and after that who? You? No! I don't want that!"

Claude looked at her, stunned.

"I don't think I could ever believe in God again, if he were to take you or our children from me."

Tears swelled in her dark eyes.

"Why is everyone I care about being taken away?"

For once he could not answer. He had no answer.

"People need to die Esmeralda. If everyone stayed alive forever it would be too crowded here. God needs more angels, so he calls his people up when he needs their help the most."

It was the best explanation he could give.

"I cannot promise you that God will not take me, however I can almost guarantee that he will not take our children anytime soon."

Her tears began to subside. In a short time Esmeralda had learned that death was not the pretty fantasy she had was known. It was filthy and painful. And death was less complicated than she once believed. The body simply stopped breathing, its heart ceased to beat and the body fell limp. She had once thought that a chorus of angels would descend from Heaven to greet the soul with a song and an outstretched hand. The soul would see God waiting at the gates of Heaven and God would kiss the soul's forehead, welcoming them in. She had never seen the chorus of angels, nor the soul ascending to Heaven. The only part about death she knew was real, was the body and the decaying of the body. Her mind was still wrapping itself around the fact that one day someone could be well and she could speak to them and then the next day they could simply be gone.

"But God could take them anytime he wanted to. That is what frightens me! God does not seem to be in a merciful mood these days."

Her babies and Claude had become the world to her. They were the things in her life that could never be replaced. Phoebus was easily replaced as her true love, her gypsy garb had been easily replaced with fine dresses. But people could not be replaced.

"God is not always merciful my dear. God has his ways and it is best not to question them."

"I feel ill."

She hurried to the washroom, leaving Claude confused.

* * *

It was early in the evening. Jehan was playing a game with Emilee and Isabeau was sitting up in her bed. She suddenly felt incredibly strong and decided to stand up. She no longer felt ill, or dizzy. She took a few shakey steps forward. She stumbled, grabbed hold of the doorframe and steadied herself. She walked with confidence into the parlor where Jehan and Emilee sat.

"Isabeau is something wrong?"

"No. I feel fine."

Jehan stood and placed his hand to her forehead.

"Your forehead feels normal. The fever broke. Do you feel ill, faint, tired?"

"No. I feel restless!"

Her strength had returned. She scooped Emilee up into her arms, kissing the child and cooing.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I feel wonderful!"

She kissed his cheek and began twirling around the room with Emilee in her arms.

Jehan sent for his brother at once.

"She tells me she feels fine, but can it be that she is well again?"

Claude carefully examined her and was able to deliver the good news to his brother.

"Isabeau is perfectly fine. You would never guess that she was deathly ill earlier today. This is great news indeed!"

Jehan gave his brother an odd look.

"Esmeralda has been worried about my death and that of our children. She lost her faith, but now this news may restore that faith in God!"

"So, you and she had another disagreement?"

Claude looked down at his feet.

"This disagreement didn't have anything to do with a certain captain did it?"

Claude released a heavy sigh.

"She says that death has more to do with it than anything else, and yet I find it difficult to believe her. She still thinks of him you know. I often wonder if he is the one she thinks about when she is laying in bed, dreaming at night. I wonder if those same dreams are what jar her from sleep and cause her to stare up at the night sky. On more than one occasion I have been tempted to wake her just so that I could ask her what she is dreaming of, but she always looks so at peace and so innocent and I could never disturb so much sweetness."

Jehan listened and nodded.

"How often do you two have sex?"

It was a bold question.

"What?!"

Claude was taken aback by this forward question.

"You heard me brother. How often do you and Esmeralda have sex? Is it a nightly occurrence? Weekly?"

Embarrassed, Claude rubbed the back of his head.

"It depends upon her mood. There are some evenings when she will not allow me to leave the bed chamber and then there are some nights when we only sleep. I would say we make love at least three times a week."

"And are you happy with that arrangement?"

Claude shrugged. He never gave much thought to how much sex he wanted, or could have with his wife. For the most part, he enjoyed her closeness. He enjoyed holding her and cuddling with her. He was much older than she and realized that he was not in his prime. He always figured that his activity with Esmeralda was healthy and regular.

"I suppose I am."

Jehan nodded again.

"And who normally initiates the act?"

"She does."

Again, Claude shrugged, thinking little of the fact that Esmeralda was the one to want to pleasure him.

"Ah ha!"

Jehan exclaimed, thinking he had come to a root of the problem.

"What?"

"You're not taking charge in the bedroom. She wants a man who will take charge; a man who will be a man."

Claude rolled his eyes.

"And what do you suggest I do exactly?"

Jehan cleared his throat.

"First have her run an errand…something small that will give you enough time to get undressed and into the bed. When she comes home call to her, but do not get up from the bed. When she comes to find you, pull her down towards you. Take full advantage of the proximity of her lips and before she can protest slip your tongue into her mouth. Gently massage her tongue with yours. Place one hand on her hip to guide her into bed with you, but do not release hold of her mouth! Slowly untie her bodice and kiss every patch of skin. Use more of your lips, less of your tongue for that act…"

Claude was growing both interested and disgusted.

"Before you relieve her of her skirt, press your groin against her opening. Give her time to feel how much need you have of her. That will build up her desire for you. While doing that lean in, so that your lips are almost touching. Blow on her lips, the anticipation of your lips on hers will have her in a frenzied state! Slowly and very lightly lick her lips…taste them, savor them, but do not kiss her just yet…"

Claude listened attentively, but still did not see how this was "taking charge."

"Place your arms around her, lift her up a little so that you can suck one of her nipples. Allow your tongue to slowly wander around the peak, while your thumb rubs and presses down on the other. She'll try to finger herself, but don't let her. Take her hand and bring it to your lips. Loosen her belt and relieve her of her skirt. She'll be more than thankful for that! Before entering her…"

Jehan stopped a moment to notice the fevered look on his brother's face.

"Brother, are you listening? This next part is of the utmost importance, so you need to listen."

"Yes, go on."

Claude was too busy fantasizing about his wife to care what Jehan said.

"Before you enter her, rub yourself against her, tease her by placing the tip against her opening and guide yourself up and down, or in small circular motions. This will make her groan and wriggle, trying to buck her hips and feel you enter. Prolong entering her as long as you can. Pull back if you must, kiss her opening, but do not allow your tongue to enter. Let her know that you will enter when you are ready, but do not say so out loud. Gently and without even touching, glide your hands over her legs and to her inner thighs…this will allow you to feel the moisture and heat between her legs and it will build more tension for her. Glide your hands to her hips to steady her and again, rub yourself against her. Place the tip against her opening once more and enter as slowly as you can. At that point do not allow your lips to stray from hers, less it be to kiss her neck or her fine breasts. The trick is to make her want you and to drive her mad for you. I should have had this talk with you before you married the girl."

Jehan hit his forehead with the heel of his hand.

Claude, in a daze nodded. While Jehan had been speaking, he was imagining taking his wife. Now he understood; being the man and taking charge was less about being rough and making her feel vulnerable and more to do with her needing him.

"She knows that you need her and she knows what your weaknesses are, but do you know hers?"

* * *

Still dazed, Claude stumbled out the door. He walked back home, realizing that what his brother had said was true. Esmeralda knew what drove him mad; all she had to do was whisper his name, widen her eyes and pout just slightly and he was hers. She had always had control of him. He had relinquished control so early on and had given in to her every want. But now, he knew none of her little weaknesses. It served as a challenge, one which he welcomed more than anything. Upon arriving home, Claude decided to give Jehan's advice a try.

"Esmeralda…"

He checked the nursery first, but she was not there.

"Esmer…"

The bed chamber was next, but still she was nowhere to be found. He turned and walked a little ways down the hall. He lightly wrapped on the washroom door.

"Esmeralda?"

Esmeralda was splashing cool water on her face when she heard her husband's voice.

"I'll be out in a moment."

Exiting the washroom, Claude noticed that she looked pale.

"Are you alright?"

"I am fine, it was a momentary illness."

Claude did not believe her and placed his hand to her forehead.

"You do not appear to have a fever. Has this been the first day you've felt ill?"

"No. I've been feeling ill every morning for the past week."

Claude nodded and believed he had the answer.

"I think you might be pregnant again."

He couldn't help but smile.

"Esmeralda, why don't you go to the market and purchase some things for dinner."

He kissed her forehead. She quietly nodded and left the house, leaving Claude to prepare himself for her return. He had begun to remove his tunic, when he heard his daughter begin to cry.

"Oh no! Hush my little one."

He rushed to the side of her cradle and immediately lifted her into his arms.

"Your mommy has gone out for a while. She'll be home soon."

He cooed and rocked her in his arms. He tickled her belly and she giggled.

"Your mother will be home soon and she will feed you then."

Claude suddenly realized that though his brother's advice had sounded wonderful, he had two children he had to care for. Seeing that Esme had calmed down in his arms, he placed her back in her cradle and retrieved his tunic. He needed to find someone to care for his children while he and Esmeralda made love.

He took both children in his arms and walked outside with them. He looked around, trying to figure out where he could take them and then it dawned on him. Gringoire had no children and could be entrusted to watch Esme and Claude-Maurice for a few hours.

"Master Claude!"

"I need you to do me a favor. I need you to keep an eye on Claude-Maurice and Esme for a short while."

Puzzled, Gringoire questioned why Claude would think him good with children.

"I know nothing about babies! I have no siblings, I have no children of my own and I have had very few interactions with babies."

"If Claude-Maurice cries it means he is hungry. If Esme cries that means she wants to be held."

Gringoire gave him an even more puzzled look.

"And how do you expect ME to feed him?"

It was Claude's turn to be puzzled.

"Find a wet nurse."

"And why are you asking me to do this again?"

"I need some time alone with Esmeralda."

Remembering his promise to Fleur-De-Lys, Gringoire shook his head.

"I can't. I have a dinner to attend this evening and I simply cannot show up with two children…"

Claude sighed, heavily. He didn't want to ask Jehan and Isabeau, but it seemed like the only other option. Isabeau was more than happy to help. It seemed she wanted to prove that she was feeling better.

* * *

Upon his wife's return, Claude was lying in bed, the covers pulled up barely past his waist. From the parlor he heard Esmeralda's sweet voice.

"Claude are you in here?"

She quietly opened the bed chamber door, thinking he might be asleep.

"What are you doing in bed?"

She waltzed over to feel his forehead, hoping he was not ill. He swiftly grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her in close. She felt his hot lips on hers and then she felt his tongue enter and begin to explore. Before he had time to place his other hand on her hip, she pulled away, breaking the kiss.

"Are the babies asleep?"

"They are with my brother and Isabeau."

She gave him an odd look.

"I wanted some time alone with you."

He attempted to pull her back, but she resisted. He lightly squeezed her wrist and tried again.

"They are safe. What more do you need to know?"

He whispered, still trying to convince her to lay with him.

"You sent them to your brother's just so that you could make love to me?"

He detected a hint of anger in her voice.

"You could not have waited until night fall?"

Claude blushed, abashed at his actions. He thought a moment of how he could side step a disasterous argument.

"You are pregnant again, you should savor any time alone with your husband while you can. Soon we will have another little one to worry about, to care for, to hold, to wake us in the middle of the night, to interrupt us in the throws of passion."

He tried enticing her with a steady and calm voice.

She shook her head.

"No. You will retrieve our babies and wait until night fall."

She located and tossed to him his tunic and hoisiers.

"This is what a man gets for attempting to be romantic with his wife?"

"No. This is what a man gets for leaving his children in the care of a deathly ill woman…"

Claude had not told her that Isabeau was better. That could be his saving grace.

"Isabeau was up walking and holding Emilee earlier today. She appears to have recovered completely!"

Esmeralda thought a moment.

"Then all the more reason to retrieve our children. Jehan and Isabeau need some time alone."

Claude could see that he was getting nowhere fast.

"And why is it so important to you that we make love now? Can that not wait?"

At these words Claude pulled back the covers and revealed his swollen manhood. He pulled Esmeralda down onto the bed next to him.

"Sometimes a man just cannot wait my dear."

She tried to stand back up, but his grip was too tight on her.

"I do not want to…"

Before she could finish her sentence, he had shoved his tongue passed her lips and was intent on following his brother's advice. He could feel her pulling away.

"No, I do not want you now!"

She pushed him away and once released from his grasp, she stood by the door.

"It is always when you are ready. It is always your choice, your decision of when, how and under what circumstances we fornicate! Is that all this is to you, some game that we will only play upon your choosing?"

Esmeralda shook her head.

"No. I thought it was an expression of our love for one another!"

They were in a shooting match and the loudest never really won anything. Claude had experienced these shouting matches with his wife before and never ceased to lose.

"It is, but I would like to be the one who initiates it once in a while."

"But, Claude you do."

He gave her a puzzled and questioning look.

"What?"

He asked intrigued.

"You're my husband; handsome, strong, loving. You've never left my side!"

He had heard this sweet little speech of hers too often.

"Yes, but what attracts you to me?"

Esmeralda sensually looked down at what was between her husband's legs. It made sense to him now; She was normally the one to initiate sex, because she needed to feel him inside her.

"Oh!"

Claude smirked wickedly in his realization. He had more control over her than he originally thought.

"I still want you to retrieve our children."

It had finally happened! He had won an argument! She had had control of him since the very beginning, but with this new found knowledge he could finally regain some control. He did as she requested and upon returning decided to address the greater issue at hand. It would more than likely cause another shouting match and he knew for a fact that she would mention the captain in some way. But for now he wanted to restore her faith in God.


End file.
